


The Marauders and Their Mischief

by Twisted_Magic



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Bromance to Romance, Hogwarts years, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, MWPP Era, Marauders' Era, Mildly violent werewolf scenes, Multi, POV Alternating, Slow Build, The Marauders - Freeform, Troubles at home
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-10
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-02-16 22:42:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 26,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2287124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twisted_Magic/pseuds/Twisted_Magic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All great friendships start out like any other and have to start somewhere, and this one starts out on a train. Four young boys with unhappy pasts find joy in each other and discover that the darkest parts of themselves don't define who they are. </p>
<p>Join James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew as they go through all seven of their Hogwarts years, from when they first get their Hogwarts letters to when they leave for their separate paths.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Year One: Lion Hearts ~ I Solemnly Swear That I'm Up To No Good

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first shot at doing a Marauders fan fiction that follows them through all seven years. We'll just see how far I'll get. I don't know how often I will be updating because of school, but I'll try. Thank you for reading and enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius avoids his family in his room at Grimmuald Place.

**Sirius Black**

Sirius Black pulls back the curtains over his window and sits on the desk chair he had pulled up. He crosses his arms on the windowsill and rests his chin on them, looking down at the street below. The little park across the street from Grimmuald Place is full of parents walking with their children and dogs. They all look so peaceful in the sun filtering through the trees in the park.

Sirius’ chest clenches, wishing he could be out there, not in here hiding from his family. He only ever gets to go outside with his family on strolls sometimes, or when they floo to Nocturn Alley. Sirius had tried to sneak out when he was younger, but Sirius wasn’t surprised to find that all the windows and doors were alarmed, and his parents caught him instantly. They had punished him and he had never tried again.

Sirius watches a muggle man walk by on the sidewalk below without looking up once at Grimmauld Place, though Sirius doesn’t expect him to. _I don’t know which is worse; being invisible to everyone or being far to visible to my parents._ Sirius shakes his head as he lifts it from his arms. _Definitely the latter._

Sirius had began drifting away from his parents Orion and Wulburga Black from a very young age, if only because they weren’t too kind on him having a bit of fun. He’d never really been the rebel type until he reached the age to realize that his parents were a lot stricter on him than other parents appeared to be on their children. There were too many rules, too many appearances to keep up, when all Sirius had cared about when he was younger was having fun. He used to play with Regulus, his brother younger than him by one year, but his parents decided once Sirius reached the age of eight that it was inappropriate for the heir to the Black family to play games.

Sirius had always known his entire family were purebloods and that they were against muggles and half-bloods. He had accepted that fact years ago because he had just assumed that muggles had done something to personally harm or upset his family and it was a family grudge. But around the age of eight or nine Sirius truly began to realize that the Blacks had no reason to hate ‘tainted’ blood other than that they felt themselves more important than them, that they considered it an abomination for such people existed. That was not a good enough reason for Sirius and he began to question his family’s morals.

Sirius had started testing his parents then, seeing how far their hate for half-bloods and muggles reached. It soon became obvious to Sirius that they truly believed that purebloods were better, even though they had just the same amount of magic in them that muggle-borns did. Sirius had asked his parents this once, why they thought they were better and his mother had out right screamed at him, completely exploding with the effort to comprehend why Sirius couldn’t understand. Sirius could understand perfectly well what they meant, but that didn’t mean he understand _why._

Sirius had started to slip away from his parents, hating himself for not seeing the darkness in his family sooner. He had been blind all his life and then a layer had been stripped away, allowing him to finally see the ugly souls hiding beneath his family’s skin.

 Sirius had never considered himself a rebel, he had just thought it was some phase every Black went through before they embraced their dark sides, but Sirius soon began to realize he was just _too_ different from his family. A few times he wondered if he was adopted, compared to his brother Regulus, who never questioned their parents. Maybe something was wrong with him, why couldn’t he be like them so he could be accepted at the very least. But that wasn’t an option, Sirius came back to that every time; he didn’t want to hate muggles and half-bloods if it meant being cruel like his family. Other times he wished he could have been born into a muggle family, that way he wouldn’t have to deal with the cruelty he saw here, but he knew muggles had their own problems too.

Everything had changed for Sirius last year.

 

***

Sirius looks at the tapestry of the Black family tree in the drawing room, marveling at just how many Blacks there are, how many people that are so different from him. Sirius looks through them for a name, just _one_ name, of a Black that hadn’t been in any newspaper articles about murders or hadn’t been apart of rallies against muggle-borns allowed wands. Sirius wants to know that there is just one person in the family that is like him, that wasn’t evil, that wouldn’t kill a muggle without blinking an eye.

Sirius' eyes stop at the small image of his cousin Andromeda Black, who was in Slytherin at Hogwarts when Sirius was too young to remember. She had always been kind to him, always laughed at his jokes and always had a look of sympathy on her face when she looked at him every time she visited Grimmuald Place. She never stood up to the other Blacks, just kept her head down and her mouth shut, but Sirius could always see a fire in her eyes, a suppressed look that told Sirius she couldn’t wait to leave all of them, even if it meant leaving Sirius.

Sirius fingers the little picture of her, which has a snobbish expression that doesn’t suit her at all. _At least_ she’s _like me and her life hasn’t turned out so bad._

But just then the drawing room door crashes open, his mother Walburga storming across the room, black robes billowing behind her. For a horrible second Sirius worries she is headed towards him from the murderous look on her face, but instead she heads to the tapestry behind him. Sirius leaps back in horror when she pulls out her wand furiously and brandishes it at Andromeda’s spot on the hanging. Walburga’s wand tip flares and Sirius watches as Andromeda’s face is scorched in a matter of seconds. It happens so fast Sirius doesn’t have time to stop his mother.

“What did you do that for?” Sirius demands angrily before he can stop himself. He instantly regrets it from the look on his mother’s face.

“You are not to contact Andromeda anymore, Sirius,” Walburga orders through teeth clenched in rage. “She has run away and married a mudblood. She is disowned and you are not to mention her name again in this house, you hear me boy?” Her voice rises into a shriek threateningly, but Sirius just drops his mouth open and frowns. _Why would she leave?_

“And don’t you _dare_ question me!” Walburga screams, causing Sirius to take a step back, but she grabs his shirt and holds him in place with her fist, pointing her wand threateningly in his face. “No one questions me, especially a lowly eleven year-old! You’re so proud you’re a rebel too, just like you’re cousin here?” She shoves his face up to the tapestry, the smoke rising from the scorched area making him want to choke.

“This is what you’ll get if you disobey me, boy,” his mother hisses in his ear, which is somehow scarier than her screaming. “If you ever cross me, you _will_ regret it.”

***

After that Sirius stopped rebelling in the little ways had over the past year or so, hiding his real thoughts just like Andromeda had before she ran away. He was scared of what his parents would do and he was back to square one. He didn’t talk back to his parents as much anymore, hid the muggle money he managed to get his hands on sometimes and never questioned his mother again.

But his fear didn’t stop him from hating his family even more after Andromeda was blasted off the tapestry, after seeing what they did to people that weren’t exactly like them. That the Blacks would never, ever accept him and his own face would be blasted off the family tree in the end, turned black just like he should be. But maybe that wouldn’t be so bad if that meant he wasn’t like them.

Sirius realizes that he is clenching his windowsill tightly from the memory, though he doesn’t know whether from anger or sadness. _Both._ He shakes his head again and stands up from his spot at the window. But just as he turns his back on the window, he hears a tapping on the glass behind him.

Sirius spins around to see a barred owl tapping on the window, a piece of parchment clasped in its left foot. Sirius frowns. _Why would anyone be contacting me?_ But then he realizes in a shock like a slap to his face that it is July first. His heart leaps into a faster beat and he grins, racing to the window and opening it to let the owl hop in, its wide eyes looking up at him as it sticks its leg out pointedly. Sirius reaches for the letter with shaking fingers as he see the Hogwarts crest pressed into glossy red wax on the back of the envelope. As soon as he takes the letter the owl turns around, brushing his arm with its wing as it takes off, sending a gust of warm air into Sirius’ face.

Sirius closes the window and stares down at the letter in his hands, but not opening it. _This will change everything. I won’t have to see my family and I could have a life outside of their watch. Maybe I could actually…be who I want._ This thought makes his stomach flip with nerves and excitement.

Sirius looks at the address on the front:

 

_Sirius Black_

_The second room on the fourth floor_

_12 Grimmauld Place_

_Borough of Islington,_

_London_

Sirius takes a quivering breath of excitement as he turns the envelope over and breaks the wax seal. He pulls the letter out and even though he knows what it is going to say, his heart leaps when he reads it, telling him he is accepted to Hogwarts.

_I don’t even care if I’m going to be sorted into Slytherin. For the first time in my life, I’m leaving home. I’m going to Hogwarts!_


	2. Fading Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Albus Dumbledore visits Remus' home.

**Remus** **Lupin**

Remus Lupin sits in the living room on a couch across from his father, Lyall. Lyall’s long legs are crossed with a book propped on them. He always reads when he gets back from the Ministry of Magic at his job in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. The clean but patched clothing he wears hangs loosely on his thin frame, a physical feature Remus shares with him.

Remus looks down at the book he holds in his own hands, a muggle story his mother, Hope, gave him for his birthday in March. She or his father rarely give him books on magic, despite the fact his father works at the Ministry of Magic. Remus never asks, but he knows it’s because his mother doesn’t like him getting involved with magic anymore than he already has. His mother is a muggle and was fascinated by magic when she married Lyall, Remus’ father had told him. But when he told those stories about before he was born, when his mother liked magic, he always had a wistful look on his face that he tried to wipe away as soon as it came, but Remus always saw it.

Remus looks down at his arm without meaning to. The werewolf bite on his right upper arm has never faded and although the wound has closed long ago, the marks stand out dark red as if they are fresh. Remus always wears long sleeved shirts to hide them, but it does nothing to make him forget they are there. He has them so well memorized that when he looks at his covered arm, its like he can still see them, a thing so horrible it cannot be concealed by mere fabric.

Remus can’t remember being bitten other than memories of darkness and stabbing pain, then maybe a flash of light from a spell his father cast at the werewolf, but he might have just imagined that after hearing his father tell the story. Remus had only been four at the time and didn’t completely understand that his father is a wizard, he just had just known that Lyall could make sparks come out of his wand to amuse him and make his toys come to life to play with him. So when he became a werewolf, he didn’t understand what that meant and why he transformed every full moon. For a year or two after he was first bitten, he had gone through his transformations without questioning his parents, being too young for them to explain his illness to him.

When he turned six, his had parents properly explained to him about magic, that his father was a wizard. They also told Remus that what he was is called a werewolf. They had told him that Lyall worked at the Ministry of Magic, the wizarding government. The Ministry had caught a man called Fenrir Greyback when Remus was four. Fenrir had been brought in for questioning for a muggle attack and Lyall instantly knew that Fenrir was a werewolf, but no one believed him. Lyall got frustrated and said something bad about werewolves, but his father never told Remus what that was. Considering the guilty look Lyall got when Remus used to ask him, it must have been something pretty awful.

As revenge for Lyall’s comment, Fenrir had broken into Remus’ bedroom on the fullmoon and attacked him. His father had saved him and brought him straight to Saint Mongo’s, but it was obviously too late and from then on, Remus spent every full moon in their basement. They would attach a chain to his ankle before they locked the basement door. Lyall always places Unbreakable charms on the door and the chain so he would not escape, as well as Silencing charms so the neighbors wouldn’t hear him and get suspicious.

Remus has many scars on him from his transformations. With nothing to attack and nothing to direct his wolfish behavior on, he will turn on himself, scratching and biting his own body. His father heals them every time, vanishing the smaller scrapes and cuts, but the ones that weren’t fixed soon enough or were too deep left pale white scars, even years later. But no one ever saw them besides his parents.

He had never gone to school because his parents didn’t want him getting hurt by other children, physically or emotionally. They worried someone would find out so, they hid him away. His mother homeschooled him while his father was at work, then Lyall would read over books on the magical community and magical creatures with him. Remus loved hearing stories about his father going to Hogwarts, but he wondered sometimes why his father was teaching him magic now when Remus would learn magic when he went to Hogwarts. But it soon became clear to Remus that his parents never intended for him to go to Hogwarts at all.

 

***

 

Yesterday morning the Lupins had been eating their breakfast. Lyall is wearing his wizard robes for work, while Remus and Hope wear patched clothing. The Lupins had spent so much money on finding and testing cures for Remus’ condition ever since he was four, that they soon became very poor, especially when Lyall was demoted at work for the ‘scandel’ of a member of that department being associated in the way that he is with a werewolf, resulting in him getting a lower pay. Remus’ parents had stopped trying cures about a year ago when it became clear that nothing would work and that they just didn’t have the money for it.

Just then, a barn owl flies through the open kitchen window. Remus gasps at the surprising sight, though his parents don’t seem surprised at all. In fact, they seem to have been expecting it.

The owl drops a letter on the kitchen table next to Remus’ plate and flies back out the window. Remus instantly recognizes the Hogwarts crest on the back of the envelope and he feels a leap of hope in his chest. But before Remus can even touch the letter, Hope snatches it up from the table. Remus looks up at her in confusion and sees that her face is tight and she is looking at Lyall, completing ignoring Remus.

“No,” she hisses through clenched teeth. Lyall also has a tight expression, looking down at his clasped hands on the table.

“We can’t keep him here forever, Hope, you know that,” Lyall replies with an impatient tone that almost sounds like a growl. Hope makes a little stuttering squeak in her throat.

“But we can’t _let_ him,” she snorts out the last two words with a small disbelieving smile. Lyall bangs his hands down on the table and whips his gaze to his wife with anger now flashing across his face, causing Hope to make a small jump. Remus looks back and forth between the two of them with confusion and horror. They fight often, but never in front of Remus.

“If he stays here, how is he ever supposed to move on with his life?” Lyall says with a raised voice. “If he stays here, the only thing he’ll ever know is a muggle’s life and the basement!” Hope raises a hand to her mouth in shock.

“Don’t you think I know that?” she yells. Remus shrinks in his chair. His mother has never raised her voice in front of Remus and she is still covering her mouth with her hand, as if that will dampen her yelling for Remus. “I know he’s unhappy here. But at least he’s _safe_ here!”

Lyall stands up at those words of Hope’s, placing his hands on the table and leaning into his wife’s face.

“ _But at least he’ll have a life, unlike you! I know magic has been ruined for you, but I won’t let it be for Remus!_ ” Hope lets out a sob and jumps up from the table, running out of the kitchen with Remus’ letter crumpled in her hand. Her footsteps sound on the staircase and a door slams.

“Damn it,” Lyall hisses and turns around, running his hands through his floppy hair. “She’s going to write back to Dumbledore.” He runs out of the room after Hope and up the stairs. Remus can hear him calling her name through the door, pleading her not to write that Remus won’t go. The door opens and there is hurried whispering, then silence.

Then they continue like nothing ever happened.

 

***

 

 

Remus runs through the events of that morning every minute of today, as if this entire day was a repeat of yesterday in his mind. Once again, Remus’ heart sinks. _I know that that letter was my Hogwarts letter. I know mother wrote back that I won’t be going. I’ll never go to Hogwarts._ Remus’ grip tightens on his muggle book, knowing that now it will be the only kind of book he will ever read. Hope has taken away the magic books that Lyall had given him and hidden them away. Even though she won, Remus won’t be going to Hogwarts, she seems to want to take it even further and immediately purge Remus’ life of all magical things in an attempt to forget about what might have been.

 _But I will never forget my chance to go to Hogwarts. Father is right; I live a muggle life here. He teaches me about magical creatures like werewolves and he tells me about wizards, but he’ll never teach me magic or get me a wand, not with mother. And I’ll never meet other children._ Remus feels a pang in his heart with that last thought, but then he settles with the realization that even if he was with other children, he could never have friends because no one would accept him. _They might find out about me then I would have to leave the school. Or I might hurt someone._

So Remus tries to shove down the thought of Hogwarts, knowing that he would be better off being safe than happy. But he has to blink away tears, because he still wants to experience the other parts of being a wizard other than being a werewolf. _There has to be something better._

Remus feels cold with the thought that his father is right that all he will ever know is the basement. All the days of the month revolve around getting ready for or recovering from the full moon. _If I went to Hogwarts, there would be other parts of my life._ And the time that he actually spends in the basement is terrible. He looses control over himself when he is a werewolf and he isn’t conscious of himself, but in the morning when he changes back, his memories come back and he remembers all the events of the night. And they are not nice things to remember.

A knock sounds on the door. Lyall jerks in his seat, snapping his book shut. They rarely have visitors at their house and even those are by arrangement. Hope appears in the sitting room doorway on the right side of the room, clutching the doorframe.

“Who is it?” she asks Lyall, who is getting out of his chair with his hand in his pocket, holding his wand. Remus sticks a bookmark into his book and jumps up to follow his father to the front door, but Lyall flicks his hand at Remus to sit back down. _It can’t be someone coming to hurt us. No one knows about my condition. So who could it be?_ In the hall, which Remus can see through the second door on the left of the room, Lyall opens the front door.

“Professor!” he stutters in surprise and steps backwards.

“It’s headmaster now, mind you Lyall. Good to see you again, old chap,” an old man’s voice replies with a pleasant tone. “Mind if I come in?” Without waiting for a reply, the man steps in through the door and Remus raises his eyes in shock at what he instantly recognizes as the appearance of a wizard.

The man is dressed in full-length lilac robes with silver trimming, a floppy pointed silver hat on his head. He has a silvery beard that reaches halfway down his chest and a pleasant smile on his wrinkly face. He looks around him until he sees Remus and Hope in the sitting room, then enters with a grace that hardly fits an old man. Lyall follows behind him with an expression of shock on his face and stammers for him to take a seat. The man thanks him and takes Lyall’s armchair, so Lyall sits down on the couch next to Remus and motions for Hope to join them, but she stays where she is, clutching the doorframe.

“You must be Hope and Remus Lupin. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” the man greets the two of them. “Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Albus Dumbledore. I’m the headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. But you may simply call me Dumbledore.” Remus’ heart leaps. _Hogwarts!_ Hope steps forward with a tight expression.

“I believe I replied that Remus would not be attending Hogwarts,” she says with a coldness that surprises Remus, seeing as Dumbledore is their guest. But he smiles pleasantly with a twinkle in his eyes, unaffected by her tone.

“Oh I received your letter,” he assured, “but I’m here today to hear what Remus has to say about it.” Both of Remus’ parents snap their gaze to their son, who shrinks back on the couch.

“What I have to say, sir?” Remus clears his throat when his voice comes out dry. Dumbledore leans forward.

“You see, your mother has told me you would not be attending Hogwarts,” he explains, “but I can hardly imagine that you would agree with her.” Remus looks up at his mother, who is looking at him intently. Remus looks back at the headmaster.

“Well you see sir,” Remus replies with a defeated voice, “I can’t go because of my condition.”

“Oh yes, I know about your…condition,” Dumbledore says, “and we have made arrangements that you will stay in the Shrieking Shack in Hogsmeade on the full moons. No one other than the teachers shall know and you will be just like any other student the rest of the month.” Remus’ heart beats faster with the possibility. He opens his mouth to say yes when Hope steps forward.

“Remus,” she whispers to him, leaning over the arm of the couch to his ear. “I want you to be safe. You know that you’ll be safe with us.” She smiles at him sadly, as if she already knows what he’ll choose. Lyall shifts on Remus’ other side and looking at Hope, he says to Remus, “son, being happy and pursuing a life of your own is just as important. Don’t let our opinions change that.” He now looks at his son, smiling kindly at him. Remus smiles back gratefully and it fades away when he looks up at his mother for her final word. Her lips are tight and her eyes are wet.

“Remus,” her voice shakes, “make your choice.” Remus’ heart speeds even faster than before. _This is my chance._ But he feels a twinge of guilt that he would be leaving his parents, especially Hope, who has done everything to protect him. All of her work would be for naught. _But it’s my life. Just for once, I want to be selfish._ In his gaze, Remus tries to pour all of his love and apologies at Hope before turning to Dumbledore, who has been sitting patiently through their exchange.

“Sir, thank you for your trouble for coming here,” Remus says. “I would love to attend Hogwarts,” he finishes with a smile. Dumbledore beams at him.

“I will do anything for my students, I assure you that you are no different,” he replies, “and it would be a pleasure to have you at our school. If that is all, I shall send you another list of supplies you need for school. We will see you on September first, Remus.” Dumbledore gets up from his seat and walks over to the couch, shaking hands with each of them.

“It was a pleasure to meet you Remus and Mrs. Lupin, and to see you, Lyall, again after all these years.” Hope returns the statement and Remus thanks him again, then Dumbledore exits the room, Lyall following behind to let him out. A loud crack sounds from the doorstep, which Remus recognizes as the sound of Apparating. Then Remus is left in the room with his parents.

Hope sits down next to him and takes his hands in hers, which are cold and shaky from her crying. Her light brown hair, which Remus gets from her, is hanging in her red eyes.

“Remus, I want you to be safe, I really do,” she whispers. “But as your father said, we want you to be happy too. So we’ll let you go to Hogwarts. But under one condition,” she says more forcefully, “I don’t want you getting too involved with other children.” Lyall makes a noise of astonishment. Hope ignores him.

“I just think it would be better if you don’t make friends, so your secret will be safe and no one can hurt my boy.” She stops as a sob breaks out and she pulls Remus into a tight hug.

“Okay, mother,” Remus whispers into her shaking shoulder. Although he hates to agree, he knows that she is right.

_I’ll still get to know the other children, I don’t need friends. The important thing is that I’m going to Hogwarts._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, I hope you've been enjoying it! A chapter on James Potter will be coming soon, stay tuned!


	3. Independence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James thinks about what it will be like to not be around his parents while he's at Hogwarts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me a bit longer to get this chapter posted, I've been busy with school. I hope you enjoy!

**James** **Potter**

James Potter lies underneath the beech tree in his backyard, the sun filtering through the leaves to cast gentle light on his face. His hand rests on the broomstick at his side, a Cleansweep Five that he had gotten for his eleventh birthday in March. James is breathing hard from the excitement of flying for several hours, and it isn’t even lunchtime yet. He loves to circle around their large yard, going higher each time, even though his parents have many times told him how they felt about him going so high. But he does it anyways.

His parents are reasonably wealthy so they often treat James, their only child, with gifts almost to the point of being spoiled. His father Charlus Potter had married Dorea Black at a late age so they didn’t have James until they were around forty. Both of his parents are purebloods and Dorea believes in blood purity, though she isn’t awful like her family about it. She always taught James to appreciate being a pureblood, that he had a heritage that reached centuries back, a status that he had a right to be proud of. He never really understood it, but he did like to feel special so he didn’t think about it too much. After all, he trusts and loves his parents and therefore everything they say is right.

Since Dorea was a Black, they are wealthy and they have a nice, comfortably sized house in a mostly muggle village. James plays with the other wizard children in his neighborhood and occasionally goes to fancy parties with his parents at purebloods’ houses, connections on Dorea’s side of the family. Dorea doesn’t involve herself in the blood purity issue, but she is still proud of her family. Though on the other hand, Charlus doesn’t believe in blood purity so he chooses to stay away from his wife’s family when he can.

James always gets what he wants when he wants it. But he has never fulfilled his biggest wish, until now; going to Hogwarts. James pulls out his Hogwarts letter from his jeans pocket, which he has kept in there ever since he had received it two days ago. He unfolds it and fingers the now soft parchment from the creases that lace its surface. His father wanted to frame it and hang it on the wall, but James wants to keep it with him.

All his life he got everything handed to him on a silver platter. He never had to work for anything, his parents knew what he wanted before he himself even knew what that was. But Hogwarts will be different. Without his parents there, he will have work for everything, it will be up him to do well in school. It will be the first time he will survive without his parents there to help him if he fell.

 _I’m so special to my parents, but how good am I really? Am I even important?_ A prickle of fear starts in James’ heart. _Do they even want me at Hogwarts, or did they just accept me because parents wanted them to? Is my whole life really just made up of what my parents give me? Can I even be a person without my parents there to help me?_

James loves his parents and all they do for him, but sometimes it feels like they are his training wheels, that he can’t support himself without them. Now with Hogwarts, he’ll have to earn everything for himself, but maybe that won’t be so bad.

 _I want to prove myself. So far the only way I have shown that I am actually good at something without help is flying. When I’m in the air, I feel so free, like I’m on top of the world. When I’m up there, no one can judge me. I earned my flying skills and no one can take that away from me. Flying is_ my _thing, no one could have told me how to do it. It’s one thing for my parents to give me a broomstick, but flying, this is something my parents can’t give._

James sits up and pulls his broom into his lap, running his hand down the smooth shaft. It hums slightly at his touch. _This is the only thing that truly understands me._ He feels stupid to feel so connected to a piece of wood, but it has shown him so much joy that nothing else can give him. But it doesn’t always give him happiness. Sometimes it can make things go horribly wrong.

 

***

 

James stands at his open window in the middle of the night, looking at the dark, cloudy sky that brings a warm breeze into his room. He shivers slightly, though there isn’t a hint of cold in the April air. James grips his broomstick, tapping his fingers on the handle nervously. He wants to fly again.

All James has done in the week since his birthday is go on his broom. Today he hadn’t gotten a chance to because him and his parents had been out shopping and not gotten home until late. But James is itching to go flying again. The only time he feels right, truly himself, is up in the air.

 _I could just go out for a few minutes, then I’ll go to bed and be done with it. I_ should _wait until tomorrow. But I can’t sleep until I’ve flown!_ James knows he is being childish, he shouldn’t get so upset that he didn’t do something so small as fly, but he has this feeling, that he can’t rest until he’s satisfied. All James can think about is the joy of flying, a feeling he wishes he could have all the time. _I have to feel it once more. I’ll be so fast, that no one will even know I’m gone. And my parents won’t get mad at me, they never do._

With that, James comes to a decision and pulls his bathrobe on around him over his pajamas. He climbs out the window onto the roof that extends over the front porch. James can’t help but grin excitedly, his body quivering with nervous energy. He swings his leg over his broom and crouches, gripping the broom tightly in his hands. James takes one, long breath before kicking off as lightly as he can.

James rises gently into the air, circling to gain height. He feels joy bubbling up in his chest from the sinking feeling he gets in his stomach when he gets higher. James usually only goes as high as the beech tree in his backyard, a height of almost fifty feet, but he decides to go a bit higher than that.

James’ street stretches out below him and his head feels light from the thought of being this high. Lights from houses twinkle in the dark, creating an awing picture. The wind sweeps his bathrobe out behind him, flapping gently around him. The wind tickles his hands and face, ruffling his already messy black hair. James feels a smile tease his face again and this time he laughs. _There is no better feeling than being up here. Maybe I’ll just sit up here._ But he wants to do something a bit more exciting. He has never left his backyard when he is on his broom because there are muggles in this town. _But it’s dark, no one would see me._

So James leans over his broom, urging it to go forward. He glides over all the houses on his block, turning around and going on the other side of the street when he reaches the end. The exhilaration of going forward in one line without worrying about hitting a fence fills James and he goes faster, looping around and round. He dodges streetlamps and skips over roofs like a dolphin jumping waves. He feels more confident and lands on a roof of a house, running along the length of it before kicking off when he runs out of roof. He dashes back and forth, waking sleeping birds and chasing them away.

It’s not until the sky turns from black to grey that James realizes how long he’s been out. Only now he processes that his eyes are itchy from lack of sleep and his limbs are aching. Panic rushes into James’ chest when he realizes all this and turns back to home instantly, urging his broom as fast as it can go as if he can make up for all the time he had been flying leisurely. He feels cold despite the warm air with the horror of what he has done, that he has stayed out all night. James has never done anything like this before and he hadn’t meant to any time soon.

James lands on the roof outside his window a bit heavier than he means to in his hurry to get back and climbs into his room with guilt in his heart. He closes his window as quietly as he can and turns around only to face both of his parents. James gives a yelp of surprise at finding them there. They both have their arms crossed and look angrier than he has ever seen them.

“James Potter,” Charlus says solemnly, “just what do you think you’re doing?” James had been expecting them to yell, but having his father speak in such a calm and serious voice seems much worse. He can hear the anger layered underneath the calm tone though. James hangs his head, unable to come up with a response. _Yes, what was I thinking?_

“What possessed you do something like us?” Dorea demands more forcefully. “Answer me!” James cringes. He hates when he sees the Black part of her come out.

“I…I just felt like it, I guess,” James replies to the floor, already knowing that that was a bad thing to say.

“ _Felt like it?”_ Charlus repeats, his voice now rising. “Are you daft? You think that you can just sneak out in the middle of the night just because you _wanted to?_ We allow you to do what you want, but you think our tolerance extends to something like this? _I thought we raised you better than this!_ ” James’ heart stutters guiltily at his words. _They’ve always loved me and I repay them with this._

“ _You’re grounded for the rest of week! Literally: I’m taking your broom away!_ ” Dorea shouts and snatches his broom away. James opens his mouth to protest, but thinks better of it at the scowls on his parents’ faces. They leave the room, closing his door behind them. James is left in the dark of his room with the dawn sunlight too feeble to light the tears on his face.

 

***

 

James cringes at the memory, even though his parents have not mentioned it since then, two months later. They have not forgotten it, but they seem to have forgiven him after he has been on his best behavior for the rest of the summer.

But surprisingly, James doesn’t feel too guilty about it anymore. In fact, he feels an excitement that hasn’t left him since then. He has never done anything daring before and it feels sort of good. _I never realized how…perfect I’ve acted, following the rules. That’s the first time I’ve ever done something rebellious. Rebellious. I never thought I’d use that word to describe myself._ The word sends a tingle down his spine, an exhilaration he never thought he’d crave.

James looks down at his letter again. _What does this mean if I’m feeling this way? I’ll be away from my family for almost a year. What kind of person with I become?_ But now James doesn’t feel scared of that thought. _Anything can happen now that I’m going to Hogwarts!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Peter Pettigrew's introduction chapter is next!


	4. The Pettigrews

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter worries if he'll be good enough for Hogwarts.

**Peter Pettigrew**

Peter Pettigrew sits on the front porch of his house, picking at the peeling paint of the steps. His pale brown hair hangs loosely over his chubby face. He isn’t fat, but his build is small and therefor looks very disproportionate with a slight bit of weight on him. Or maybe he is just plump.

Peter waits for his mother, Enid Pettigrew, so they can go to Diagon Alley to get his things for Hogwarts. It is early for this, only a week after receiving his letter this July, but they like to be prepared. She is still cleaning herself up from her job at the Leaky Cauldron as a dishwasher. They live in a muggle neighborhood not far from Diagon Alley, so working in the wizarding pub is the ideal job for their location. But the fact that it is ideal is not why she works there, not really. It’s because she has to.

When Peter was six, his father Leo Pettigrew left them. Peter had thought things were fine in their family, at least from what he could remember from such a young age. They lived a comfortable life here, so close to Diagon Alley as a family of wizards. But Leo never really treated Peter in a loving way, or even played ball with him as Peter saw other boys did with their fathers. Leo hadn’t had a job, he had said he was too tired to do it, but Peter had known he never did anything to make him tired; it was just because he was lazy. So Enid had to work all day to provide for them, while Leo was just sort of _there,_ not acting very much like a husband or a father.

Peter didn’t know why Leo never did anything. He would sit around all day, listen to the wizard radio or read a newspaper, then he would sometimes go out at night and not come back until the morning. Peter didn’t know where he went either. Leo would almost always come back drunk, but he would be in better moods, so they had been fine with that. Or at least that’s what Peter thought.

 

***

 

Peter eats dinner with his mother: Leo had gone out again last night, taking some of the money Enid had earned yesterday.

“Where is daddy?” Peter asks. Enid clutches her fork a bit tighter as she looks at her son sitting across from her.

“I don’t know,” she admits, “but I’m sure he’ll be back in a bit.” Peter frowns, because this is how she always answers this question. She never seems to know anything, or have the interest to search for the answer. Peter picks at his food.

Just then there is the sound of the front door opening. Peter looks up excitedly. _Maybe daddy will be good today._ Heavy footsteps stomp down the hall into the kitchen and there are thumps on the wall as if someone is tripping as they walk. Leo shuffles into the room, holding a bottle in his hand, which contains a liquid that splashes over the rim as Leo falls down into his chair at the square table.

“Daddy!” Peter exclaims. Leo winces at his squeaky voice and waves in his direction as if he were swatting away a fly. Enid looks down at her food, her face showing that she isn’t glad to see him. Or maybe it’s disappointment. Or shame. Leo leans back, taking a swig of the last drops of his drink.

“Got any money today?” Leo grumbles towards Enid. She nods her head slightly and mumbles something. “What was that?” Leo asks.

“I think…” Enid clears her throat. “I think you should get a job as well. I don’t get all that much, then you…well, you spend it.” Leo leans forward, with a sudden intensity as if his drunkenness had worn off just from the shock.

“But we’ve been getting along fine,” he insists evasively. “There’s no need for that kind of talk.” Peter looks back and forth between the two of them. Enid has challenged Leo like this before, telling him not to go out at night, but she usually doesn’t tell him to get a job, because he always refuses.

“I think we should share the responsibility of this family more,” Enid suggests causally, but Peter can hear in her tone that it sounds more like a demand. “I think it would be good if you helped out more.” Leo scoffs and shakes his head.

“Peter can get a job when he’s older,” Leo replies like this has been a plan all along, a plan they have decided on. Peter frowns. _I_ _sn't he supposed_ _to help us, as a dad?_

“But you can’t just sit around all day, without a care in the world!” Enid says with a shaky voice. “What kind of example are you setting for Peter, if you’re all he has for a role model as a boy?” Leo stands up, only a little unsteady.

“Well,” he replies with a raised voice. “If that’s how you feel about me, then maybe I’m not needed!” He has a small smile like he has been waiting to say that for a long time. Then Leo turns around and walks out the door. He never comes back.

 

***

 

Peter can’t remember much about his father, but that memory always stuck with him. He knows Leo had been lazy, uncaring and a bit of a git for taking Enid’s hard earned money. But Peter had still been confused when he left. He remembers his mother had said that Leo was a bad example for Peter to follow. He doesn’t think that his father has influenced him at all. Peter’s never ‘followed his examples’, he’s helped his mum around the house and made sure she is taking care of herself. Peter wouldn’t be like his father. That is surely the only way Leo can affect him.

But that isn’t the case. Enid was right: Peter didn’t have a role model or anyone to look up to. Sure, Enid is strong as a single mother, but she stopped cleaning and fixing up the house long ago. Peter cleans it up for her, but he doesn’t know why she doesn’t at least acknowledge the mess creeping up around them. _Maybe it’s because she works so much. Or she’s given up, tired of running everything herself._ In any case, Enid has just focused on getting enough money. They had enough money; in fact they could comfortably spend as they pleased. Enid just seems to have this idea that she has to make up for all the years Leo didn’t work, as if she can change Peter’s image of how parents should take care of their family.

Peter loves her and all she does, but she is always at work, obsessing over earning more money, as if it would gain them any power, which is unlikely. So Enid isn’t at home very often, leaving Peter alone to clean the house while she is gone. Peter doesn’t know what a strong, brave, admirable person looks like. With no one like that to look up to, Peter has accepted that no one is like that, he himself could _never_ be like that. And that is that.

_If only there were such things, amazing people like that. I wish I could be brave; then maybe I wouldn’t get knocked about at school. They always tease me for being so small and pitiful. If I were brave or powerful, I would show them. But that’ll never happen. No one is that cool or perfect._

Peter thinks about the kids that beat him up at school, teasing him about his weight, his plump, childish face. His mother doesn’t know about them, he doesn’t want her to worry more than she already does. So Peter suffers through it, wishing he had the courage to stand up to them, or report them: they threatened him not to tell. _I’m too much of a coward to even talk about them to someone when they aren’t even in the room._  

The front door opens behind him and Peter turns around to see Enid locking up. She has changed into nice, clean clothes, but she has an air of exhaustion around her that isn’t just from work, but from a weakness of her spirit. But Enid smiles at Peter lovingly and he gets up from the creaky steps.

“Ready to go, dear?” Enid asks him. Peter nods and smiles excitedly as they begin to walk down the street back towards the Leaky Cauldron. It’s still July, he won’t go to school until September. _But I don’t think I can wait any longer to go anyways._ Because this is the first time Peter has truly been excited about something.

Sure, he is nervous about leaving home for so long for the first time, but this will be a new start for Peter. _Things are going to change. These will be wizards, they’ll be nicer than muggle boys. No one will tease me, I’ll find some friends. Mum and dad were in Hufflepuff, I think I’ll enjoy it there. I don’t know much about the other houses, but at least Hufflepuff doesn’t require bravery. There is Gryffindor, they’re the house of the brave, but they must all be fakes, no one is really magnificent or noble. I’ll settle for Hufflepuff._

 _But what if they don’t accept me there either? What if I’m not good enough and don’t belong anywhere?_ Peter swallows nervously. The thing he fears most that he’ll be so bad of a wizard they’ll send him home. He didn’t even show his first sign of magic, of being a wizard until he was five, a late start compared to others: Enid had her first sign when she was three. Peter doesn’t have many talents, he just gets by in muggle school.

 _But maybe, just maybe, I can change that at Hogwarts. I don’t need to be the best: Hufflepuff will accept me. I’ll get by and maybe make some friends along the way. But there’s no use worrying about those things. I should just focus on the fact that I’m even going to Hogwarts!_  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, but I think I'll make a regular update every week now, probably on the weekend. This is the last of the introduction chapters, I know they've been really short, but these were more prologues than anything, just to introduce the characters. The chapters after this will be longer, I promise! I hope you enjoyed Peter's chapter, Sirius is coming up again next. Thank you all for reading and for the kudos!


	5. An Ember of Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius goes shopping for his school supplies with Regulus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello readers! I'm so sorry I've taken so long to update, high school is keeping me busy and leaving me unmotivated to write. I know I said I would post a chapter once a week, but as you can see it's been longer than a week and I can't promise that will be the last time. But thank you all so much for reading and checking for updates if you have been! I hope you enjoy!

**Sirius Black**

Sirius closes his eyes in the noon sun, soaking in the warm August air as he smiles slightly to himself. It has been a week since he was last outside. Sirius tries to ignore the chattering of his family behind him, Orion and Walburga discussing where to go first in Nocturn Alley, and Regulus muttering to himself that it isn’t fair that he can’t go to Hogwarts as well.

“Sirius, open your eyes, you look like an idiot,” Walburga snaps at him. Sirius sighs deeply and opens his eyes slowly, taking as long as he can to turn around, causing his mother to breathe out through her mouth in an annoyed huff. Her face shows such a deep disappointment for Sirius’ behaviour that her expression could pass for disgust. She pulls out Sirius’ supply list from Hogwarts and squints at it with while Orion looks at the storefronts on this street as if he owned them. His greying black hair is slicked back like a snake’s head, his searching green eyes not any less snakelike. His hands are fitted in his sleek black cloak, even though it is summer, and he is completely ignoring Regulus’ huffs and sighs. Regulus could be a smaller, slightly less handsome version of Sirius: his black hair is cut short like his brother’s and his misty grey eyes have a calculating look about them, like he could be a genius if he weren’t so bent on everyone doing everything for him.

“We shall need to go to the robes shop,” Walburga announces. “Sirius, you go there with your brother, your father and I shall get your books.” She presses a handful of money into Sirius’ hand, making his heart skip with the excitement of being handed such a responsibility. Her grey eyes narrow on him, as if she can sense his thoughts.

“You are to go to Raven’s Robes around the corner and spend this money only on robes, then you will meet us in the apothecary, understand?” Sirius nods, looking down at her black robes until she turns and walks down the street, walking stiffly with her arm hooked with Orion’s, both of them looking around at anyone who walks past as if daring them to question their status and reputation. Their black robes meld into the shadows of a street corner and they vanish.

Sirius lets out a long breath that he feels like he has been holding for weeks. _Finally, I’m by myself!_ But then he remembers Regulus and he turns around to see him staring at Sirius with a gloomy expression.

“Well, let’s get this over with,” Regulus grumbles, obvious that he is trying to imitate their parents’ sophisticated disinterest. He holds his chin high and crosses his arms over black robes that match their parents’, even though Sirius can see the sweat on his brother’s forehead from the heat. Regulus is trying harder and harder these days to look and act like Orion and Walburga, bragging to Sirius how much he supports the purebloods’ cause. _As if that will magically make him the family heir instead of me. But honestly, I won’t be surprised if that happens._

Sirius brushes past Regulus, emphasizing their height difference as he always does when Regulus gets stuck up like his. His little brother rushes to catch up, Sirius deciding to ignore the hurried footsteps and heavy breathing behind him as Regulus tries to keep up with Sirius’ long strides.

“Where are you going?” Regulus asks. “Raven’s Robes is this way.” He attempts to pull on Sirius’ white shirt, pointing in the right direction.

“I know,” Sirius replies calmly, when his heart is actually racing. “We’re going to Madam Malkin’s in Diagon Alley.” Regulus gasps.

“But mother—” Sirius sighs but it turns into a laugh. “Mother isn’t here to tell me what to do,” he says, his pace becoming faster at the thought. “We could buy ice cream at Florean’s or something.”

“Mother said—” Sirius stops and turns around, causing Regulus to crash into his chest. “Since when have you cared so much about what _mother_ says?” Sirius demands with sad realization.

“We are apart of the Black family,” Regulus states slowly, as if he were reciting it. “If we don’t stick with our family, no matter what, then we have nothing. Is that what you want?” Sirius takes a deep breath.

“Maybe I want a different family, you ever consider that?” Sirius mutters softly. _Did I just say that out loud?_ Regulus has a flash in his eyes, an understanding that reflects what Sirius has been feeling. But then it is gone and he’s crossing his arms again.

“Whatever,” Regulus mumbles to the ground.  

Sirius has a sudden flashback to when Regulus had been seven and they both of them had been playing in the park across from their house. They had come across a black cat playing with a mouse but not really eating it, just biting it occasionally and toying with it. Regulus had chased away the cat, but he had cried for the rest of the day. “Why would the cat do that?” he had asked Sirius. “The mouse was defenseless.”

Sirius looks at his brother and wonders, if something like that happens again, if Regulus would cry, if that softhearted boy is still in there. But all he sees is a cold stare.

Sirius shakes slightly from the odd moment and continues on his way to Diagon Alley. They walk through a tunnel of sorts and underneath an archway and they are suddenly on the main street. It is like a different world; wide, well-lit streets and towering, crooked buildings painted in bright colours. Parents walk with children and friends laugh, calling out to shop owners and each other as they walk by. Sirius smiles around him at no one in particular, his eyes feasting on colours that aren’t black and grey, on expressions of joy.

“Come one, let’s go,” Sirius says to his brother in a voice happier than it has been in days. As they walk down the street to the left, a few people recognize them and look at the two of them with fading smiles and step out of their way. Sirius feels himself shrink inward, wishing he could strip everything off of himself that makes him a Black. _It’s probably Regulus that’s attracting all this attention._ He looks at his brother out of the corner of his eye, watching his prideful walk with growing annoyance.

They finally reach Madam Malkin’s Robes, which Sirius only knew where to find because he asked for directions from someone who didn’t recognize him and was happy to help. The store is busy, several families strolling through the racks of multi coloured robes. To the left by the windows, there are small platforms that a few children are standing on, getting measured by some witches for their uniforms. Sirius hops up onto an empty one and waits for someone to come, while Regulus turns and disappears into the racks with out so much as looking at Sirius. A young woman steps up with a measuring tape and Sirius smiles at her, but she stops in her tracks and stares at him.

“You’re a Black,” she states in shock, taking in his recognizable appearance. Sirius’ heart sinks in dismay and his smile fades. He looks down at the floor and pats his sides awkwardly.

“Yes, I am,” he replies, even though it wasn’t a question. “I see I’m not wanted.” He is stepping down from the platform when the woman gasps.

“No, no,” she stutters. “I didn’t mean it in that way.” Sirius turns in surprise. “You see, we’ve just never had a Black in here before,” she smiles apologetically, holding up the measuring tape in offering. Sirius smiles back at her.

“Yeah, I thought I’d change things up a bit,” he laughs, getting back on the platform. The young woman does the measurements in silence, Sirius feeling odd to be under inspection by someone in a way that isn’t to judge him.

***

After hours of shopping, the Blacks sit at the dinner table in their grand dining hall. Orion sits at the head and Walburga at the foot, even though there are no guests. Sirius and Regulus sit across from each other in the center of the long table, a distance of four chairs separating them from their parents. They eat without conversation, only the gentle clatter of cutlery on dishes breaking the silence. Sirius slouches over his plate, picking at his food with his fork.

The day in Diagon Alley had been going great. After the two brothers had left Madam Malkin’s, they had gone to get ice cream and Regulus had even smiled. But as soon as they entered the apothecary, Regulus had ran to their parents and blurted out that Sirius had gone against their wishes and gone to Madam Malkin’s. He had whined that Sirius had dragged him there, he had no choice but to go with him to make sure he didn’t break any more rules. Sirius had watched from a few feet away as his parents became angrier and angrier as Regulus continued his story. Sirius had wanted nothing more than to sink into the ground to escape their piercing gazes. Sirius had thought for a moment that Regulus wouldn’t tell on him because they had ended up having fun, but of course he shouldn’t have thought he could change.

Orion and Walburga had pulled him into an alley out of the way so that they could tell him off for disobeying them in privacy. They had continued the rest of the shopping with him, not letting him out of their sight for a minute. When they got home, Orion had ordered Kreacher to take all of Sirius’ new things up to his room, not allowing Sirius to look at his new wand, which Orion knew his son was itching to try out. They had all sat down in the dining hall and waited until dinner was ready.

Regulues kicks Sirius under the table, gesturing with his shoulders to sit up straight. Sirius only glares at him and resists the urge to kick him in return, knowing he would only whine to their mother. Sirius pokes at his food, some fancy meat dish with a long name he couldn’t pronounce even if he wanted to. Walburga clears her throat.

“Sirius, don’t play with your food,” she orders. “Sit up straight, you are eating with your family.”

“But you’re not my family,” Sirius mutters to himself, so quite even Regulus can’t hear. His mother sighs as if this is a conversation they go through every dinner, even though she normally doesn’t care enough to address him with these matters.

“Speak up,” Walburga demands.

“I said that I apologize, dearest mother,” Sirius announces with his best noble son voice, dripping with sarcasm. His mother narrows her eyes at him, obvious to Sirius that she knows that wasn’t what he said. Sirius turns back to his food and takes a bite, looking at his mother as he eats it with exaggerated movements. _Better?_ Regulus rolls his eyes with an even greater exaggeration, acting as usual like he is the older brother that knows better. Sirius has to close his own eyes for a second to calm himself.

Sirius eats his food as fast as he can, even though he has no appetite, to get dinner over with. He sets down his fork when the others are only two thirds of the way through their own dishes.

“May I please be excused?” Sirius asks, even though he already knows that they will probably say no. Orion sets down his fork with a clink, drawing Sirius’ attention and gaze to him.

“Sirius,” Orion begins with a stern tone, “Your mother and I have very disappointed with your behavior lately. We feel a punishment is necessary.” Sirius’ heart sinks. _I suppose with my restlessness for Hogwarts I haven’t been as careful as I usually am. What are they going to do?_

“Walburga and I have come to the decision that unless you behave,” Orion stares him down to emphasize importance, “you shall not begin your time at Hogwarts until later in the year. We feel you are not prepared for life in public, so you shall stay at home and—” Orion is silenced when Sirius drops the fork he had been gripping onto with a clang to his plate. Sirius’ mouth drops open in shock.

“You can’t—but—this is my education, I thought that was important to you,” Sirius tries to think of an angle they will agree with, tries desperately not to scream at them. _My only chance for freedom is slipping away._

“Of course it is,” Walburga joins the conversation, “but if you are not fit for society then no amount of education will improve your image.” Sirius nearly chokes from having to keep down his words to describe just how _stupid_ that is.

“But if you’re willing to make a difference in your behavior,” Orion adds, “you can attend Hogwarts as we originally planned.” Sirius nods hurriedly in agreement, while Regulus looks back and forth with an absorbed expression.

“I truly apologize for how I have been acting,” Sirius says as sincerely as he can, almost feeling honest about it. _I’ll do anything to go to Hogwarts._ “I will prove to you I can behave…appropriately. Please forgive me.” His parents nod in satisfaction.

“We accept your apology,” Orion replies, returning to his food. “You may now be excused.” Sirius stands up as slowly as he can manage, his legs itching to run out of the room. He manages to make it to the second flight of stairs before he begins to run, and the third staircase until he begins to cry.

Sirius slams his door and slides down to the floor against it. He covers his face with his hands and screams silently into them, closing his eyes as tight as he can. Sirius lets out all that air until his lungs are empty and he has to gasp for breath. His gasps for air and to calm himself are shaky and guttered as tears pool under his eyes, his vision blurred into nothingness.

“I can’t take this much longer,” Sirius whispers as he closes his eyes and leans back against his door, allowing the buildup of tears to overflow down his face. Sirius thought he had been putting on a poker face, not letting on to family to their faces how he felt about them. Sirius thought he had been like Andromeda, keeping his head down and not speaking his mind. But he and been wrong.

 _I never thought I could dislike my family this much though. Every minute I spend with them is another minute I have to pretend to be someone else. I can’t believe what they said at dinner about image. They would sacrifice my chance at a life of education so that I could appear to be more like them?_ Sirius pulls his knees up and hugs them, resting his chin on them with his eyes still closed. _Why can’t they accept that I just don’t want to be like them? Why is it such a big deal that I choose not to follow their rules sometimes? Isn’t that independent thinking or whatever it is teenagers are supposed to develop?_ But Sirius realizes that original thinking, smart Blacks is not what they want. _My parents want all of the Blacks to be just like them, with brains they can understand—and control_.

Sirius wipes his eyes and blinks to clear them. “Just one more month until Hogwarts,” he whispers to himself like it is a lifeline, a life saving spell. With the thought of spells, he remembers his new wand with a leap of excitement in his heart.

Sirius gets up from the floor and heads for his desk where his things have been stacked neatly in the boxes they had been packaged in. He passes the slowly dying fire in his fireplace on the opposite wall from his bed, casting shadows around the room. Sirius rummages through the parcels until he finds the long, slender box carefully wrapped in elegant green paper with gold leafs. He rips through the paper, letting it drop to the floor and holds the box in his hands, his tears forgotten. Sirius carefully lifts the lid and slides it onto the bottom of the box before gently pulling back the two ribbons that serve as a protection.

The firelight glints on the dark purple wood of the Blackthorn wood wand. It has a unicorn hair core, which is surprising since both of his parents have dragon heartstring as their cores. Ollivander the wand maker had looked at Sirius curiously when this wand had chosen him. He had said that Blackthorn is tricky and paired with unicorn hair, Sirius’ wand could either do amazing things or be unruly and hard to control because of an unspoken reason that Ollivander had shaken his head at in wonder.

Sirius forgets all that now and takes it out of its box, knowing that it will not go back in there. He turns to the fireplace where the fire is almost out now, made of more spitting embers than flames. He stretches his wand arm out, his right arm, marveling at how well the gleaming wand fits in his hand, the sleek wood comfortable on his skin. Sirius focuses on the fire before him, imaging the flickering flames growing in size and glowing brighter. He recalls the spell his parents use to light candles sometimes. _Incendio._ Sirius takes a deep breath, his fingers tingling with excitement and magic waiting to come out.

“Incendio,” Sirius whispers. Sparks fly from the tip of his wand and the fire flares a few inches higher, sending out a wave of heat and light. The fire settles into a steady burn, the light dancing on his wand like it is the magic itself celebrating its first spell. Sirius beams, the warm feeling of joy now spreading through his body like the fire before him that he watches with new hope, strength for his last month at home burning bright.


	6. Escapism and Moonlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus thinks about what it will be like at Hogwarts.

**Remus Lupin**

Remus reads the last page of _A History of Magic_ by Bathilda Bagshot and closes the book, placing it on his lap. He leans his head back onto the headboard of his bed, fingering the frayed fabric cover of the book. He has been reading his school books non-stop since he got them a week or so ago in July and has already finished reading _Magical Theory_ by Adalbert Waffling and _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_ by Quentin Trimble, which was particularly interesting to Remus. With nothing better to do to pass the time until September first, Remus spends his days reading and getting numerous ‘pep talks’ from his mother on how to act around other children; or how to _not_ be around other children, more like it, since Hope doesn’t trust him to make friends, so she more talks about how to keep his secret from others. As the day of his departure draws nearer, he should be getting excited, but Remus is only getting more and more terrified.

 _Magic seems so complicated._ Remus drops the book onto the mattress next to him and slides down to lay on his back, staring into space. _I don’t know how I’m going to make it at Hogwarts, the only thing I’ve learnt about magic is from books and stories from father. Mother has taken all of my old books on magic that father has passed on to me and she would take my schoolbooks too if she could. I bet the other children have had_ years _of practice, I’ll have to finish my books to get a bit of a head start at keeping up with the other children, then maybe I can get by with passing marks._

Remus takes a deep breath. _I shouldn’t be thinking about marks before I’ve even arrived at Hogwarts. I should be happy I’m at least allowed to go to Hogwarts._ Remus had originally thought that the only problem he would have of being able to go to Hogwarts would be if his mother agreed to it. He had never actually thought that because he was a werewolf he might not have been allowed to attend school in the first place.

It had only occurred to him when Dumbledore had come to talk to them weeks ago about the special arrangements and precautions they would be taking, that any other headmaster would not have allowed Remus to attend school out of prejudice towards werewolves. He had found his book on werewolves he had hidden under his bed where Hope couldn’t find it and searched for the laws that applied to his kind and found just what he had been looking for: it was not against the law for a headmaster of a school to deny education to a wizard werewolf. It had never occurred to him that Dumbledore might have simply refused to send Remus an acceptance letter due to his condition.

 _I’m glad I am able to go, but thinking about it now, does not allowing me in Hogwarts make sense? I could hurt someone if I escape the Shrieking Shack on the full moon, or someone in the Ministry could find out and resign Dumbledore from his post! Maybe it would be better for everyone if I didn’t go._ But, closing his eyes, Remus thinks about the book he has just finished, Bathilda telling of the centuries of magic as it evolved into the creation of wonderful things that have brought people together and made history to be proud of.

Forgetting about magic on a school level, Remus thinks about what it would be like to be involved in such an amazing community as this. He thinks about what it would be like to escape the mundane world of muggles and into the magical world of dragons and legendary duelers. Remus quivers with the thought of being a part of something as substantial and unique as this. _If I don’t go to Hogwarts, I will only live the half of my life that belongs in the muggle world. I am a wizard, I cannot escape that and I will not._ Remus opens his eyes and smiles, letting his fear melt away and allowing himself to feel a hint of excitement.

Remus sits up with the intention of going to his trunk, but groans when little bursts of pain run down his spine, reminding him of what day it is. Today is a Friday, the 6th of August: the night of the full moon. Remus has constantly been checking his calendar, even though he knows the dates of his transformations for the rest of the year; he can’t help looking just in case it will somehow change the date. The 6th is the last full moon before Hogwarts and the next is on the 5th of September, the first Sunday of the school year. _Great, something to look forward to._

Remus forgets the excitement he had been feeling only moments ago and sits on the edge of his bed, dreading that he will have to deal with a transformation so soon into his time at Hogwarts. _What if I get discovered on my first full moon? I’ll have to leave almost as soon as I’ve arrived. I guess it will be safer for me if I don’t get too attached to Hogwarts or make any friends._

The word ‘friends’ feels strange in his thoughts, a concept he has only seen in books. His parents don’t hang out with other adults, they left their friends behind when they moved last time and haven’t bothered to make any new ones. Remus tries to picture what it would be like to have another person not in his family that he can laugh with, share secrets with and make memories with. When he thinks of friends, he thinks of people like Sam and Frodo from Lord of the Rings, stories of epic friendships where each of them would do anything for the other. _That kind of friendship can’t be possible though, no one could be that close to another person. Can they? What if it_ is _possible? Well either way I won’t find out. Besides, I don’t even know how to make friends, I haven’t hung out with anyone my age in ages. Mother has said it’s dangerous to get close to others because they might discover my secret, so I should forget about._ For what feels like the hundredth time, Remus settles reluctantly with this fact and tries to put it out of his mind.

Remus gets up from his bed despite the protests of his body and takes _A History of Magic_ to his school trunk stationed at the foot of his bed. He crouches before it and lifts the battered lid of the trunk, which looks like it has had at least two previous owners. Remus gently places the second hand book on top of the neat stack of books in the left corner, which has progressively been growing as he adds his favourite novels. Lyall teases him that soon there won’t be any room left for clothes, but Remus has packed and repacked his trunk many times to make sure it all fits.

Lyall reads almost as often as Remus, but he doesn’t understand the true importance books have to Remus. Books are the one escape he has when he spends his days indoors, allowing him to disappear into pages that send him to other, better worlds. Reading means Remus can be someone else, slip into the skin of a hero or fearless adventurer, characters that Remus wishes he were as brave and admirable as. Since it seems as a werewolf he will not be able to go on these kinds of adventures, or even do normal things other wizards can do, he has to live through books, which isn’t so bad because there are no limits to how many different lives he can live.

Characters from novels are Remus’ friends, but the books themselves are too. They have given him a gift of freedom, portals to places he wishes he could spend the rest of his life in. _Books don’t care who their readers are, they love sharing their stories with whoever opens them. Books don’t care if I’m a werewolf._ Remus sighs, knowing he sounds silly, and wonders if anyone else feels the same way about books or if he’s the only one.

Remus surveys the rest of the things they have bought from Diagon Alley. All of his robes were bought at a second hand shop hidden off the main street and they all looked worse once they were taken out in daylight. His school robes were too long and were loose around his chest, probably meant for someone at least two years older than him. It was obvious a student had already owned them, there were loose stiches where the house colours and badge had been removed. In the store there had been robes made for first years, but his parents had bought these so that they would last him for a few more years.

Remus had been very conscious of their lack of money while shopping, noticing how they only visited second hand stores and bought the cheapest of the cheapest. When they had been bargaining with the shop owner of Flourish and Blotts for lower prices on previously owned school books, Remus had been gazing open mouthed at the stacks of new, beautifully bound books with gleaming titles stamped into their smooth leather covers. He hadn’t even voiced his obvious love of the books when Lyall had dropped into Remus’ arms the stack of creased, frayed, and torn books they had just bought and ushered him out of the store. Lyall had spoken to Remus about how they were trying their best to buy him all of his school supplies and that he shouldn’t be complaining about how old or worn they were. Remus had kept his mouth shut on the subject for the rest of the shopping trip, feeling terrible that he had made his parents think he was ungrateful.

Remus closes his school trunk, feeling guilty that he is the reason they are so poor. _They shouldn’t have spent all that money on me, testing those cures they knew wouldn’t work. Now they’re spending all this money on school supplies and they’ll only have to buy more every year. Maybe I could get a job of some kind next summer to help. Mother and father always tell me not to worry about money, but I’m not blind to how little we have, I can’t just sit back, or even worse, have them spend_ more _money on me._

Just then another shock of pain shoots through Remus’ limbs, making him wince. He checks the clock on his wall in sudden panic, but relaxes when he sees it is only 5:42; the sun will not set until about 7:30. _Dinner will probably be ready any minute now._ The Lupins don’t usually eat so early in the evening, their most common eating time is 7:00, but they always eat early on nights of the full moon to allow time to get ready. As if on queue, Hope’s voice carries itself up the stairs into Remus’ room, telling him that dinner is ready.

“Coming, mother,” Remus calls back. He pulls himself to his feet and turns the light switch off before heading down the dark hallway. He reluctantly goes down the stairs, wishing he could hide in his bedroom until the full moon is over.

***

Remus pokes at his meat with his fork, too distracted to even care what kind of meat it is. He stares down at his food, his head propped up with his left fist. His light brown hair that his mother keeps forgetting to cut covers his eyes, obscuring his view of his parents. Remus can hear the clink and clatter of their cutlery on their plates, the only sounds breaking the silence at the table. But that doesn’t last long when Lyall clears his throat moments later.

“Are going to eat anything, Remus?” he inquires gently. “You really should have a little something to keep your strength up.” Remus shrugs.

“Sorry, I’m not hungry,” he mutters. The truth is, his stomach is so fluttery he doubts he can keep anything down. He feels terrible letting food go to waste, but his mother always insists on giving him food on the evening of full moon even though she knows he won’t finish it. _Or even start it._

“Well,” Hope says, the queue that she is about to say it’s time to get ready. “It’s just about six-thirty, dear, if you could put you dishes away.” On the full moon, everything runs on a tight schedule, habits they have formed from years of practice. Dinner is made two hours before sunset and eating must finish one hour later, then half-an-hour is taken to clean up the meal and get prepared, then the last part of the hour Remus spends waiting in the basement. The Lupins made this schedule to keep things running smoothly to make sure they were ready in time, but it somehow makes it worse for Remus, having a clock ticking down to the exact time he will have to face his transformation.

Remus eases himself up from his chair, trying to keep from gasping out in pain from the aches running through his body. His plate quivers slightly in his grasp as he carries it to the compost bin under the sink. He opens the cupboard door and crouches to scrape the meat off with his fork, feeling guilty watching it fall into the bin with a _thump_. Hope takes his plate, fork, and knife from him with a small smile and puts them in the sink to wash them for him.

“Why don’t you go sit down for a moment?” Lyall suggests as he puts his own dishes in the sink. Remus nods gratefully and walks into the sitting room across the hall, passing the front door on his way, feeling as old as Dumbledore as he enters the same door he did. _I bet even Dumbledore walks more gracefully than I am now._ Remus lowers himself onto the couch, stretching his legs out on the cushions and allowing himself to close his eyes. He covers his face with slightly shaking hands. _I wish I could just go to sleep and the next time I wake up, the full moon will be over. I wonder what it must be like for other people to sleep on the night of the full moon. I suppose it would be just like any other night for them. I wonder if mum and dad sleep through the full moons, or if they stay up._ Remus has never had this thought before and has the urge to ask his parents, but he decides against it. His mind drifts as he rests and before he knows it, more time has passed then he realizes.

“Remus,” Lyall says as he comes into the sitting room, causing Remus to open his eyes and look up at him in dread. “It’s time to go down now.” He tries to smile encouragingly at his son, but it comes out looking very strained. Remus gets up from the couch, his heart pounding like he has just run a race. He takes deep breaths as his parents lead him to the basement stairs underneath the staircase that goes to the second floor. Hope whispers to him about how brave he is as Remus tries to fight the urge to either turn around and run away or throw up. As they walk down the stairs and past the landing, Remus feels like he is walking down to his doom, like the doorway to hell is at the bottom of the stairs.

Lyall opens the door when they reach it and turns on the light switch, which does nothing to make the room look more welcoming. The cement walls and floor are rough but well cleaned, making the square room look extremely bare. The one window at the far end of the room is small, barely large enough to let in the dying rays of the setting sun. Hope and Lyall smother him in hugs and kisses before taking his clothes from him and putting the chain on his right ankle that attaches him to the wall on the left. Lyall mutters charms as he waves his wand over the chain and the door as he and Hope begin to exit. Remus looks at them with panic as they turn off the light and close the door behind them. He takes a deep breath and sits down on the floor, leaning against the wall as he hugs his legs to his chest. Remus blinks away tears and looks up at the window on the wall, watching the sunlight creep back from the house, leaving the room darker by every minute. The sun sinks away from sight and it’s the last thing Remus sees before he feels a sharp pain ripping through his entire body as it shifts into its other form. Remus screams only once, the ongoing sound echoing off the walls. Then his mind is gone. 

***

Remus groans. He hears someone shushing him and feels them gently lift him off the ground into their arms. He whimpers quietly with his eyes still closed and turns his face into their chest, his skin warm from pain. He feels movement and hears the sound of whispering. Then he is lowered onto something soft, like a bed, and he slips back into unconsciousness.

***

Light shines through Remus’ eyelids, causing him to squint in annoyance and turn his head away. But he is awake now and can’t go back to sleep so he slowly opens his eyes, blinking when they drift shut again. A white ceiling comes into focus and Remus turns his head to his window on his right, where a beam of sunlight has snuck its way through the drapes. The light is bright and coming from a high angle, so it must be noontime. He looks to the clock on his wall to his left and confirms that it is indeed just past the time when his family usually eats lunch. _How long have I been out? Is this the day after the full moon, or the next day?_ Remus is sure it is the next day, since he rarely ever wakes up the day right after due to exhaustion.

Remus’ stomach growls loudly, startling him. _I must get something to eat._ But to do that he has to get out of bed and to do _that_ he has to see the damage he has done over night. He takes a deep breath, shifts up his pillow into a slouching position and lifts his covers. Remus lets out his breath slowly when he sees a bandage around his right ankle; he has sprained it in an attempt to escape the chain, not an unusual occurrence, but it looks like his father has succeeding in healing it. Remus pulls up his shirt and finds four, long marks on his waist, but they are pale pink, as if they were shallow. He suddenly remembers giving himself those marks.

The memories of the night flow into Remus’ mind. He remembers feeling very frustrated, he could smell three humans: a man, a woman, and a young boy. The smells of the man and woman had led to the door of the room that he had not been able to reach with the annoying chain around his ankle, that had been just a smidgen too tight for him to slip out of. But the smell of the boy had told him that it was still in the room. The wolf had gotten so frustrated when he had found the smell was coming from _himself_ and he had bitten himself at this realization.

Remus pulls up his left sleeve to find that indeed there is a bandage around his forearm. He feels sick with the thought that he has done this to himself, has done this many times, every month for the last seven years. _And for every month for the rest of my life._ Remus swallows and pulls his sleeve back down, looking around his room for something to distract himself from his depressing thoughts.

Remus then remembers that he was hungry and even though he doesn’t feel very hungry anymore, he decides he should eat something anyways. He swings his legs over the left side of his bed and slowly gets to his feet, careful to put all his weight on his left foot. Holding onto his bedside table until he can reach the wall to support himself, Remus inches himself out of his room and down the hall to the stairs. His limbs are heavy with exhaustion and he feels slightly lightheaded, but he makes it down the stairs and into the sitting room where his parents are sitting.

They both leap up from their seats when they see him and they rush towards him to sweep him into a hug. Remus laughs as Hope kisses him on the nose and Lyall scoops him into his arms, swinging him around before marching him into the kitchen in search of food. Remus smiles at them, forgetting about the horrible moment the other night when they had left him alone in the basement, and just feels the love passing between the three of them, a family.

No matter what, Remus knows his parents love him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for reading and to anyone who has left kudos or subscribed, it means a lot to me! Good luck to anyone that has exams at school, happy end of first semester!


	7. Bones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James goes to a party at the Bones' house.

**James Potter**

“ _Are you ready, dear?_ ”

“Just a minute, mum,” James Potter yells back. He stands in front of his mirror, frantically trying to brush his hair flat. He has tried two different combs, his mother’s hairbrush, water, and multiple other different angles of attack, but nothing will make the tuft of hair at the front of his head lay flat. James sighs and gives up, lowering the brush in defeat before sizing himself up in the full-length mirror. He straightens his grey dress robes with a huff. The Potters rarely ever wear wizard fashion due to the fact that the population of their town is mostly muggles, so when James actually wears things like dress robes instead of a suit he feels ridiculous. His father Charlus has great fun wearing full out wizard robes in public just to see the neighbors’ reactions, so everyone just accepts that he is weird. _But what if_ my _muggle friends see me and think_ I’m _a freak?_

“James!” his mother calls again from downstairs, her voice becoming more insistent. “Coming!” he replies. James bites his lip disapprovingly at his reflection and turns away to walk into the hallway towards the stairs.

The Bones family is holding a small party at their house tonight as a sendoff for all the children leaving for their first year at Hogwarts since their eleven-year-old daughter Amelia Bones will be one of them. James knows his friends Amos Diggory and Jasper Ernst will be there as well as a few other witch and wizard children. He runs down the stairs to find both of his parents waiting in the living room by the fireplace, wearing matching long, navy robes. The instant Charlus sees James he grabs a handful of floo powder from a bowl on the mantelpiece and ushers everyone towards the fireplace.

“I’ll see both of you in a minute,” Charlus smiles at them and ducks in, so tall the top of his head can’t be seen. He throws the powder down as he announces the Bones’ address. He disappears in a cloud of green smoke and flame, making James squint from the brightness. Dorea shoos him forward when the flames die down and James reaches into the bowl on the mantel, taking a handful of the light, grainy powder. Once he is in he repeats the address and throws the powder down. He squeezes his eyes shut and tucks his arms in tight, fighting the urge to sneeze from the powder and smoke tickling his nose as he begins to spin. The first time James flooed a few years back, he had kept his eyes open the whole time, making himself so dizzy he had thrown up once it was over. He has learned his lesson and always keeps his eyes shut whenever he travels by floo.

A few seconds later, James’ feet touch down on the bottom of the Bones’ fireplace and he stumbles out in an attempt to keep his balance, scattering ashes on the fancy rug in the process. Charlus laughs and claps him on the shoulder.

“Still haven’t gotten the hang of it, I see,” he smiles at him, laughing again when his son’s face turns red from embarrassment. They move out of the way when Dorea steps out from behind them—not looking the slightest disheveled—and takes Charlus’ arm. Their hair has small grey streaks here and there and they are both getting little wrinkles around their eyes, but the love in their smiles that they share with each other makes them look young to James. They both step forward when Lara Bones, Amelia’s mother, sees the Potters and rushes over to them with a smile on her face.

“Welcome! I’m so glad you could make it, Dorea,” Lara beams. “Lovely to see you, Charlus,” she greets, shaking both of their hands. Lara smiles down at James when they are done exchanging greetings. “How are you, James? Excited for Hogwarts?” she asks. James shrugs and gives a little nervous laugh. “I suppose so,” he replies, to which the three adults chuckle knowingly.

“I remember my first year, I was terrified,” Lara chuckles. “But it’s never as bad as you think it will be, even if there are dangers around every corner at the school.” The parents burst into laughter again when James makes a horrified expression in response.

“Are you joking?” he asks, but they don’t hear him as they turn away to walk over to a couch to chat. _There wouldn’t be things that could hurt the students at the school, would there? They must just be playing with me._ James swallows nervously, not entirely convinced.

He looks around the living room where the parents are talking together, snatches of conversations of Hogwarts memories reaching James’ ears. He weaves his way through the parents to a couch across the room where the children his age are sitting.

“James!” Amos grins, beckoning his friend to sit beside him. James waves to him and perches on the arm of the couch, saying hello to Jasper seated in the middle of the couch as he does so. He looks up to see another boy, Tristan, sitting next to Jasper, and a group of girls standing around Amelia Bones. James can’t remember the names of most of the girls there except for the best friend of Amelia, Rachel. Jasper has a crush on Amelia and Amos agrees that the girl is very attractive, and when asked for his opinion, James agreed as well to fit in with them. _I don’t see what makes her that attractive to Jasper and Amos. Sure, her brown hair and blue eyes are pretty, but I don’t find her beautiful. I’ve always found green eyes very pretty._ James feels warm in the face at these thoughts and tunes into Amos’ conversation.

“I can’t believe we’ll be leaving for Hogwarts in three weeks,” Amos marvels. James nods while staring at the floor, getting the familiar feeling of nerves in his stomach. He has been getting so excited the past few weeks, but now that he is faced with the fact that it is right around the corner he can’t help feeling scared of what it will be like.

“Do you think our classes will be hard?” Jasper wonders while absently rubbing his hands together with nerves. The Tristan boy shrugs. “I don’t expect so, it will only be our first year after all.”

“You don’t have to worry, you were top of the class at school. You’ll be a Ravenclaw for sure,” James teases, to which his friends agree. The boy raises his eyes to the ceiling with a huff and gets up to disappear into the crowd of adults. James raises his eyes at his friends and gets up to take Tristan’s seat, glad to not be sitting on the uncomfortable arm of the seat anymore.

“What house do you two want to be in?” Jasper asks, looking back and forth at the other boys. Amos shrugs in response. “My mother went to Hogwarts ages ago,” he replies as he nods his head over his witch mother and muggle father chatting with someone James doesn’t recognize. “She was in Hufflepuff. I haven’t thought much about the houses, I don’t think it really matters, but I suppose I’ll be sorted same as her.”

“It doesn’t matter?” James exclaims. “Of course the houses matter! It’s when you get to know who you really are.” Jasper raises his eyes at him. “Which house for you, then?” James stands up proudly. “My father, and his father before him, have all been sorted into Gyffindor,” James recites with a deep, mock purposeful voice. “It is my duty to carry out their legacy within their house. May everyone remember…the Potters.” He bows his head solemnly at the end of his little speech. He looks up and laughs with his friends.

“Enough about the houses,” Amos announces, joining James on his feet. “Let’s play a game. Want to see if Amelia has a game of Exploding Snap?” Jasper nods excitedly and gets up from the couch as well. James breaks into a smile, excitement making him rise up and down on his toes. _Exploding Snap is my favourite game. Besides Quidditch, of course._ They walk over to the group of girls gathered a few feet away and make their way through to Amelia in the center. She stands with a straight back, and has a very demanding presence before her audience of friends. She looks at the three of them with slightly raised eyebrows.

“Hey Amelia,” Jasper stutters out, making one of the girls laugh at the blush creeping across his face. “We were wondering if you had a pack of Exploding Snap,” James jumps in, saving his friends from utter embarrassment. _How can a girl make someone that nervous, and make them act and look like such a fool?_ Amelia nods, ignoring Jasper before pushing through her group to walk over to a shelf on the wall to grab the pack, then leads them out of the noise of the living room.

The whole group follows her, boys and girls, into the dining room where Amelia begins to set up the game on the rug. James sits between Amos and the boy Tristan. There are nine of them all together, so they split people into groups of three to play matches, so the winners will play each other at the end of their games. James grins at his group with a determined grin on his face. ‘You’re going down,’ he mouths at Amos, who shakes his head playfully in response. As soon as Tristan has finished dealing their cards, James picks his up with a quick, practiced hand, and the games begin.

 

***

 

James wins the first tournament, but the second time around he loses in the first game, and so he watches the second and third rounds. Right now Amelia and one of her friends are playing each other to determine the final winner. James has been sitting at the dining table for a while, watching as the cards let off sparks every few minutes, but not really paying attention. The party has been going on a bit too long, Amos and Jasper have gone home, leaving only Tristan and the girls for company.

James decides to see where his parents are, and gets up to wander into the sitting room. He spots them right away in the nearly empty living room sitting on a couch across the room facing a few others parents—including the Bones—who are sitting in armchairs. He walks across the carpet, dragging his feet and dangling his arms before him when Charlus spots him, making his boredom and weariness obvious. His father doesn’t pay him any attention however, returning his focus to the conversation. James listens now he has gotten close enough.

“It has all been rather worrying,” one of the mothers is saying, “all of these news in the paper. I hadn’t taken it seriously until that report from the other day.”

“What report?” James pipes up, slouching down into the spot next to Charlus on the couch. All of the parents look at him, surprised by his sudden appearance. _Have I interrupted something important?_

“It’s nothing to worry about, chap,” his father reassures him in the voice he only uses when he’s talking to children about matters they won’t understand. James straightens and looks at him, shrugging off the hand that Charlus had placed on his arm. “It didn’t sound like nothing,” James insists. He searches the others’ faces, who are all shifting in their seats.

“It’s just some things that have been showing up in the news, blood purity issues,” Charlus says carefully. James frowns. “What sort of issues?” he prods further, the worry creeping into his voice. Dorea sighs softly and crosses her arms before speaking.

“A group is taking it upon themselves to…convince people that pure-bloods are better than other witches or wizards. They’ve just been trying to attract attention so far, making uproars in public places and things like that.” James’ eyes widen at this, because he has never heard of this group. _What sort of things can you do in public to…‘convince people that pure-bloods are better’? Are they frightening people? Hurting them?_ He feels a twinge of confusion, and of fear. Before he can think about it any more, Charlus claps him on the knee and stands up, giving Dorea a hand up.

“I believe we should be going now,” he says to the Bones. “Thank you very much for having us, it was lovely,” Dorea smiles at them, shaking both of their hands when they stand up.

“Don’t mention it, it was wonderful having you three over,” Lara Bones returns politely. As the Potters collect their things, the other parents stand as well, a unison of voices saying farewells. Charlus goes through the fireplace first, disappearing in a flash of light and heat. James steps in after grabbing a handful of powder, the darkness of the inside of the fireplace reflecting the mood of the conversation from moments before. He states their address and drops the powder from his grasp, not bothering to throw like he always does. He closes his eyes and he begins to spin, matching the speed of his now equally spinning thoughts. _Does this blood purity issue involve us too? We’re pure-bloods, will we be expected to join in?_

A moment later, James is stumbling out of the fireplace from lack of balance and sleep. Charlus rights him as Dorea steps out from behind them, and as they stand there all three of them sigh loudly, letting out the evening in one long breath. James forgets his previously whirling thoughts as he heads upstairs to his bed, looking forward to the warmth and comfort of sleep. Once he has changed and is lying down under his covers, James remembers the conversation at the end of the party and has one thought before he is overcome by sleep. _This is the start of something big. Nothing will ever be the same again._

Then James slips into the darkness of sleep, enjoying the safety of it while he can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, I hope it was worth it! I'm just trying to get through the chapters until they get to Hogwarts, it's a bit of a boring story to write when they're not in school. Anyways, thank you all for reading and leaving kudos! Happy March break!


	8. Afraid of Bravery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter encounters some bullies from school.

**Peter Pettigrew**

Peter Pettigrew walks leisurely down the street, looking up at each of the shops as he passes. His mother Enid is food shopping and she let Peter walk around town until she is done, allowing him some time to say goodbye to his hometown one last time before he leaves for Hogwarts on Wednesday, which is in two days.

Peter looks into a shop window on his right with some pretty trinkets on display, and when he turns his gaze to look up the street, he sees something far less pretty. Up ahead is a group of boys Peter’s age, hanging around the candy store. They are leaning against the wall of the building, passing around candy and shoving each other in a way that one might call friendly, if you squint hard enough. Peter has faced these boys many times, in school and around town. These boys are what kids like Peter identify as bullies.

Peter feels a spike of fear, turning quickly to cross the street, planning to slip between the pharmacy and the post office, behind which he knows is an alley that leads back to the grocery store down the street where his mother is. If he can get away unnoticed.

“Where do you think you’re going?” _Too late._

Peter continues walking across the road, quickening his pace slightly, his heartbeat already pounding in his ears. He can hear the boys following him, trying to close in on him yet again. Usually if he ignores them they’ll get bored and find someone else to taunt, but he’s been ignoring them for too long. They don’t like knowing that they’ve lost power over one of the kids in their neighborhood.

“Hey, Petty, I’m talking to you,” the boy calls after him, sounding much closer and much angrier. As soon as Peter reaches the sidewalk on the other side of the street, he decides to head back to the grocery store out in the open on the sidewalk. _They wouldn’t dare pick a fight where everyone can see. I hope._

The footsteps are right behind him now, and before the young wizard can even think to run, one of the boys jumps in his path, grinning unpleasantly. Peter stops in his tracks abruptly, turning around only to find three others, who quickly surround him. The only opening is to Peter’s left, to the same alley that he had been planning to go down before. He dashes down it, away from the light and sound of the main street, only thinking a second later that they had meant for him to go down here.

The boys laugh at his attempt to escape as they run after him, sounding like dogs barking after an animal they are chasing. Because that is what this is, a hunt for the sport and amusement of the dogs, and Peter is their prey. The gang catches up to him with little difficulty, seeing as they are taller and more fit. They surround him again, this time with Peter backed up against a wall. He presses up against it, trying to get as far away from them as he can possibly be.

“Don’t bother calling for help,” one of them says, Bruce, the leader of the group. “No one will come help you, you’re so pathetic and useless. I doubt anyone will even know you’re gone.” The other three snicker in response.

“That’s not true,” Peter replies, his voice coming out much more wobbly than he hoped. He talks a small step forward in an attempt to look brave. “My mother is just down the street, and if I’m gone too long she’ll come looking for me.” Right away he realizes that was the wrong thing to say. The muggles laugh, their taunting roars echoing off the walls of the alley, which has never felt so small and tight.

“Is mummy going to come save you?” Bruce cackles. “As if.” He shoves the boy back against the wall, a glint in his eyes that tells Peter that the bully has only just started with his fun, and Bruce is going to enjoy it immensely. Bruce looks over his shoulder at his group.

“What do you say, mates?” he says, “Shall we see how long it takes for Petty to start crying?” Peter bites his lip, which has already begun to wobble from fear. _Not very long at all._ He braces himself for what is to come, then he hears something that he has never been happier to hear in his entire life.

“Peter, what’s going on?” His mother Enid is standing at the end of the alley on the street, her voice loud in the alley, and her long shadow hanging over the bullies. Bruce tenses, all humor gone from his expression, realizing that Peter had not been lying when he had said his mother would come looking for her son.

“Nothing,” Peter says quickly, trying to hide the relief from his voice. “Just with some friends,” he adds when one of the boys looks at him pointedly. He slips between the boys, trying his best not to touch them or look at them or show any sign that he is extremely glad to see his mother. But before he can get out of reach of them, Bruce grabs his right arm and Peter can feel his awful breath rasping in his ear.

“If you tell her,” he hisses, “you know what will happen.” And Peter does. But for one moment, he has the urge to turn around and tell them that he is a wizard, that he’ll be going to Hogwarts, and that they were worthless muggles, living boring, pointless lives. He wants to tell them they are dirt, that he could easily step on them and wipe them off his shoes without any trouble at all. But Peter doesn’t.

Peter pulls his arm from Bruce’s much too tight grasp and walks over to his mother as calmly as he can, fighting the nervous energy and panic that is screaming at him to run. Enid frowns behind Peter at Bruce and his gang, who follow Peter out and glare at him threateningly when his mother looks away. Enid and her son wait until the boys have crossed the street and disappeared around a corner before they walk in the opposite direction towards home.

Tension stretches between the two as Peter tries to discreetly slow his breathing and calm his quivering hands. He tightens his sweaty hands into fists and slips them into his pockets, looking down at the ground as he blinks away the tears that had started to form in his eyes. It is not until a full two minutes have passed that Peter hears his mother pull in a breath.

“What was that about?” Enid asks carefully, as if she has begun to realize that her son has been lying to her about being bullied, as if she is afraid that if she presses too hard Peter won’t tell her anything.

_Mother, those boys have been bullying me for the past year._

“I told you, it was just some friends from school,” Peter replies. Enid raises her eyebrows at him.

“It didn’t look too friendly to me,” she states in a quiet voice, noticing he is already slipping away.

_It didn’t look friendly because they were bullying me. I’m their favourite kid to bully. They do it almost every day at school and when I go out alone during summer._

“We were just talking, it’s really nothing to worry about,” Peter insists.

“Well, if it was nothing…” Enid trails off, giving up.

_It’s not nothing. I’m terrified to go to school and to walk around town by myself. I feel scared, weak, and pathetic._

“Trust me, it is.”

***

 

After Peter has helped put the groceries away with his mother, he walks upstairs to his room, closing the door carefully behind him. He falls onto his bed and buries his face into his pillow, allowing a few tears to pour out of his eyes before he blinks them away. _If I told her about the bullying, maybe it could be better. I could walk downstairs right now and tell her about all the teasing, about all the things Bruce has done._ Something relaxes a bit in Peter’s heart, hope and relief that he could do it that easily, that it could all be taken care of for him by an adult. But then he thinks of the boys’ faces when he had mentioned his mother, their laughter taunting him that he relied on his own mother. _Is that such as bad thing? Wanting my mother to take care of me?_  Peter takes a deep breath. _It_ _is a bad thing if I want to be brave enough to be in Gryffindor._  He frowns at that last thought. He had never considered Gryffindor, he had just accepted he simply was not brave enough, smart enough, or cunning enough for the other houses. _Hufflepuff is known for their loyalty. I haven’t actually been in a situation where I needed to be loyal, but I suppose if my parents were in Hufflepuff, I must be capable of loyalty too._ Peter pretends he is reassured.

Peter suddenly thinks back to fourth grade in school, when Bruce had punched a third grader and left him to cry. A boy in their year—Peter can’t remember his name—had gone over to the boy, seen that he was okay, then walked up to Bruce and out right demanded that he stop pushing kids around. The bully and his group had laughed at the boy and Bruce had shoved him to the ground, hard, but the boy just stood back up again and punched Bruce right in the nose. He had then said something along the lines of ‘now you know what it feels like’ and taken the third grader to the headmaster’s office to report the incident. Bruce and the boy both got suspended for fighting, but Bruce never touched the boy again. Peter had been in such awe at the bravery of that fourth grader, how he had stood up to the bully without a hint of fear.

 _That is why I can never be in Gryffindor. He was so brave, while I stand shaking like an idiot every time I see Bruce. Bravery is something people are born with, I suppose. I get scared of so many things so easily. I am not brave._ Peter suddenly feels incredibly small; like the world is so big it is crushing him, squeezing him into as tiny and out of way space as he can be. And he wants nothing more than to feel something other than that.

_Is it possible to be brave if I am not born brave? Is it possible to be brave if I get scared so easily? Is it possible to be brave if all I know how to be is afraid?_

_Maybe I am afraid to be brave._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Thank you for reading and thank you to the people who have left kudos and comments. I know this update is a bit short, but I'm too excited to write the next chapter to work on this one for too long. Sirius is up next!


	9. Black Hearts and Darker Deeds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius spends his last night with his family before heading to Hogwarts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this chapter may have been sitting unfinished in a Word document for two years...
> 
> I've finally gotten over my writer's block though, and I made a rather rough ending for this chapter just to get it out there. I don't think I'll work on this story again for awhile, but who knows. I have a few ideas of where I might take it.
> 
> Thank you to all those who have returned, and to those who are stumbling across this story for the first time. Enjoy!
> 
> ** Trigger warning for mild child abuse in this chapter. **

Sirius Black dips a quill pen into the inkpot on his desk and he reaches to the calendar hanging on the wall above his desk, crossing out the 30th of August. The line of black ink bleeds across the tiny square box, leaving only the 31st left unmarked. Sirius takes a deep breath, the corners of his mouth turning up. _I’ve done it. I’ve_ made _it. Tomorrow I’m leaving for Hogwarts._ His heartbeat pulses faster, excitement for leaving and nerves for the unknown rushing through his body, fueling him. He places the quill back in the little jar he keeps them in and seals the inkpot, wiping the smudge of ink on his finger off onto the polished wood of his desk, smiling at the little imperfection he’s left.

Sirius turns around, surveying the tidiness of his room; Walburga had insisted that he cleaned it before he left. They were both aware that Kreacher was fully capable of doing it himself, but Walburga told him to do it for disciplinary reasons, and Sirius agreed because he hates Kreacher going through his things. He crosses the room to his school trunk positioned by the closed door and he crouches over it. The boy lifts the lid, checking yet again through all of the things he has packed. It’s only 11:30 in the morning and he has already done this check-up three times, making mad rushes around the house to find this book or that object. Sirius shifts through the things in his trunk, pushing aside robes, potion supplies, and the toothbrush he had just put in this morning.

 _Where is my comb?_ Sirius shoves his now messy pile of clothes out of the way, his comb not in sight. He jumps up in a sudden moment of nerves, spinning around to scan his room, wondering how he could have missed it before. _Calm down!_ Sirius stops himself, taking a second to compose himself again. _I’m getting anxious about nothing, it’s just the nerves of leaving that’s getting me all worked up._ He then remembers that Regulus had borrowed his comb last night before they went out for dinner because he couldn’t find his. Sirius decides to go get it. 

The young wizard opens his door and walks across the hall to the room opposite his. He raises his fist to the closed door, the plaque with the letters R.A.B. hanging on it just above his head. He pauses and looks down at his feet in hesitation. _Regulus has been acting very odd lately. Actually, he’s been acting that way ever since I got my Hogwarts letter. I hope he doesn’t mind me coming in._ Sirius lets out a breath and knocks softly three times, the sounds echoing in the air around him, and the seconds after are silent, pressing in on Sirius’ ears.

“Come in,” Regulus calls through the door. Sirius bites his bottom lip and pulls it through his teeth once before opening the door. A bright, clean room greets him, straight and plain in a way that no ten-year-old’s bedroom would naturally look. Regulus is in an armchair under his open window, reading a book propped up on his knees that are pulled up on the chair. The look on his face is soft and at-ease, but the moment he registers it’s Sirius, Regulus gains a cold expression.

“I need my comb back,” Sirius states flatly. He has never been good at acting causal when there is tension in a room. Regulus nods his head toward his desk to Sirius’ left, then lowers his gaze back to the pages that ruffle in the breeze. Sirius turns to pick it up, and finds it lying perfectly lined up with the pieces of parchment and books that are spread out neatly. He has a sudden urge to mess-up the desk, so it doesn’t look so stiff. But he picks up his comb and awkwardly looks back at his brother. Regulus raises his eyebrows when he sees him staring.

“I’ll write to you,” Sirius bursts out. “I mean, if you want me to.” The other boy frowns, but then nods his head slightly before looking down again. _What else should I say? What else should I_ admit _to him? ‘I’ll miss you’? ‘I hope our parents don’t turn on you while I’m gone’? ‘Don’t become like them’? ‘Don’t become like_ me _so you don’t have to go through what I did’?_ But the thoughts turn to lead on his tongue and he struggles to form them into words, so he stands there opening and closing his mouth like a fish.

“Good luck with the tutor this year,” Sirius says instead. Regulus nods again, this time not even looking up. The older brother takes the hint and closes the door behind him. An ache forms in his chest, becoming heavier and more painful with every step he takes back to his room. Just as Sirius reaches his door, he hears a sound that he has made many times, on nights when he has had enough of his family and shut himself in his room: the click of a lock. Sirius turns his head and looks at Regulus’ closed door, and hears the sound of soft footsteps walking away, and he knows that his brother has locked his door. The ache becomes almost unbearable for a moment, because Sirius knows that once a Black child has locked their door, they have locked a person out of their life. _And that person is me._

***

Sirius closes his trunk with a thud and snaps the latches of the lid into place for the last time. He has finally gathered everything he will need for living at Hogwarts for the next year, so now all he has to do is wait for the day to be over. It is almost dinnertime, and tomorrow is so tantalizingly close that Sirius feels like he is holding his breath.

Sirius drums his fingers on the closed lid of his trunk, feeling as though he is forgetting something, leaving something unfinished. He instantly connects it to the heavy feeling that has settled in his chest since his visit to Regulus’ room. _What am I going to do about Reg?_ Sirius stands up and throws himself back onto his bed, staring at the deep blue canopy hanging above him, with its stars and constellations stitched into the fabric. That canopy has been above his bed for as long as Sirius can remember. He can name each and every star due to his endless lessons on the celestial beings that have been the namesakes of every member of the Black family for centuries. The star that Sirius is named after is stitched in right above his head, tiny detailed rays of light beaming out of it to signify its brightness. The Regulus star is located just a few constellations away, closer to Sirius’ star than others, but still so far away; exactly like how his brother Regulus is just across the hall, but is so distant from him.

 _Over the past few years we have become a little distant, but we’ve still been brothers. We’ve had our brief moments of connection here and there. But now that I’m going off to Hogwarts and won’t be spending time with him anymore, he’s completely cut himself off from me._ Sirius presses the heels of his hands into his eyes, blocking out the sight of the tiny stars that seem to whirl above his head. _It feels wrong to leave without fixing things with Regulus, but what can I do? Maybe once we’ve been away from each other for a while he’ll realize he misses me? But we’ve been away from each other for long time, in a way. Don’t all siblings go through this? You love each other one day, then hate each other the next, and you don’t really connect again until you’re both teenagers together? Is that what this is?_ Sirius lowers his hands to rest them on his chest, trying to make sense of all the questions racing through his head. It’s in these moments, when Sirius feels lost, that he wishes he had a good relationship with his parents, so that he could ask them these questions. _But if I did get along with my parents, I wouldn’t have all these problems in the first place, would I?_

Sirius looks up at his stars again, with his eyes following invisible lines that connect the constellations, like a map in the sky. _If only there was a map in the stars that held the answers to life._

***

Sirius forks a small pile of mashed potatoes into his mouth, his eyes darting up to look at Regulus. In the stony silence of the room, his brother is looking at his plate as he carefully cuts a piece of meat, with perfect posture. As Sirius chews his potatoes, he flicks his gaze to their father Orion at the head of the table on their left, Regulus an exact copy of his position and movements in the way they eat. Sirius looks back at Regulus, then their mother Walburga out of the corner of his eye, who has a sort of grace in her movements while still managing to look stiff. Sirius looks back at Regulus to see if he can detect any of Walburga’s features in him, but is unable to find any of her grace in him. Sirius scoops another forkful of food into his mouth, raising his gaze to Regulus again, nearly choking when he sees that his brother is staring at him. He feels a brief moment of triumph at finally capturing Regulus’ attention, but it turns into discomfort when he sees the frown on the other boy’s face.

“Why do you keep looking at me?” Regulus’ words tear through the thick silence, transforming the feeling in the room that could have passed as peace into a tense feeling of unease. Unsure of how to respond, Sirius shakes his head and shrugs his shoulders at the same time, only managing to make a kind of flailing motion. This attracts the attention of their parents; now all three of them are looking at him.

“Why are you ignoring me?” Sirius returns, and only after he’s spoken does he think now might not be the best time to start this conversation. _Too late, but I guess it’s now or never to talk about this._

“What are you talking about?” his brother frowns in innocent confusion, but his eyes show Sirius he knows exactly what he’s talking about.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know,” Sirius replies, his voice becoming sharp. He can feel all his frustrations suddenly boiling up. “Answer the question! You won’t talk to me, and you won’t tell me why. You ignore me completely, then when we get a chance to talk alone, you act like an arsehol–”

“Sirius!” both of his parents speak at once. Regulus’ face is red, but he chooses to yet again ignore Sirius.

“Mother, father, I don’t know what he means, I haven’t been ignoring him at all,” the younger boy says in a fake hurt voice. “It’s him who’s been acting odd lately, this isn’t the first time he’s called me that.” Sirius glares at him. _How dare he turn this against me? He never takes the blame for anything._ Sirius knows it’s childish, but he can’t help feeling angry for yet again being the son at fault.

“Sirius, why have you been treating Regulus unfairly?” Orion demands. Sirius turns his glare on his father.

“Why do you always believe what Reg says?” Sirius lashes out. “You don’t know at all what’s been going on between us. You never notice anything about us until it’s something _I’ve_ done wrong!” The anger towards his family that he’s suppressed for the last few months in an attempt to get on their good side tears free, as strong as ever.

“Don’t talk to your father that way!” Walburga raises her voice. “Apologize to him and your brother immediately.”

“I would apologize if what I said wasn’t true, but it _is_ true,” Sirius yells as he pushes up from his chair, clenching his hands into fists at his sides. He feels kind of scared at how hysterical he’s acting over this, something that had started as simply feeling upset that Regulus was ignoring him. But he’s knows Reg is not really what he’s angry about, it was just something that tipped him over edge into the anger that is always waiting inside of him. Sensing the long awaited storm brewing inside Sirius, his family tense as if to square off against the blast.

“You don’t care about me, not even Reg,” he accuses, taking in everyone’s cold, uncaring expressions. “You don’t even care about each other. You don’t know the meaning of the word love. You all have black hearts, and unfeeling bodies without souls that only care about sucking the happiness out the world and making life a living Hell–”

For a moment, Sirius doesn’t know why he’s stopped talking and why his head has been jerked to the side. Then he feels the intense stinging on his cheek. He looks to his right, where Walburga is standing with her hand still raised, the skin on her fingers red. Sirius slowly registers with shock that his mother has just backhanded him.

He raises his quivering hand to his face in surprise, staring wide-eyed at Walburga as his vision blurs slightly from tears. Everyone stays frozen and silent; Walburga nor Orion has ever hit their children before. Sirius searches his mother’s face for some sign of horror, or regret; but he finds nothing. Her face is like a cold, hard wall. Sirius doesn’t stop to look at anyone else’s reaction before he turns to leave the room. _I just want to be alone._ But before he can make two steps towards the door, Orion stops him.

“Sirius Black, come sit back down,” he demands with a voice of steel. “Don’t think you can just walk away after you’ve acted the way you did.” _After the way_ I’ve _acted?_ Every part of Sirius’ body screams at him to run out of the room, away from the shouting, the pain, and this new fear that his mother has planted in him. He pauses for a second, but when he hears a floorboard creak from where Walburga is standing, he turns around immediately, not wanting anyone to touch him. He slips back into his chair and stares at his hands clasped in his lap, shrinking himself like he hasn’t done in a long time. Sirius can’t decide whether he feels more scared, hurt, or angry. All three emotions as well as many others race through his body, confusing and twisting his mind in circles as to how he feels about all of this.

Sirius catches a glimpse just above his line of sight of Regulus shifting uncomfortably in his chair. _It’s all your fault this happened._ Sirius immediately feels guilty for blaming this on his brother, but then feels angry again because in a way it _is_ his fault. Sirius hears Walburga sit back down in her chair and clear her throat.

“Apologize to your brother immediately,” she orders. For a second Sirius thinks she’s talking to Regulus, but then he figures she must be addressing himself.

“I’m sorry, Regulus,” Sirius says in a small voice. The words hurt to come out, less because of his still stinging face, and more because it feels like everyone else should be apologizing to him, not the other way around. Sirius doesn’t even look up to see his brother’s reaction when he hears him speak.

“I forgive you, Sirius,” Regulus replies. He speaks calmly and clearly, just like a noble should sound, but Sirius can’t tell if he imagines the tiniest quiver in the other boy’s voice.

“Now finish your dinner,” Orion says, “it is an important day tomorrow.” _Yes, it is indeed. It’s now more important than you will ever know._ Sirius picks up his fork and scoops up more food, bracing his arm against the table as he does so just in case he shakes again. He shoves the food into his mouth, even though he doubts he’ll be able to keep it down. He stares straight down at his plate, the pain now fading from his face, but a new pain settling into his chest.

_Why? Why why why? Why does it have to be me?_

***

Sirius stares at the strip of moonlight on his door, the light flickering due to the trees dancing in the wind outside his window. It’s a wind that he cannot hear, but he’s sure he can feel howling in his chest. He had locked his door as soon as he was allowed to go to his room after dinner. He knew that his parents were fully capable of unlocking it with magic though, so he felt the need to watch his door, just in case. He squints at the clock on his bedside table, right next his wand, and can just make out the time to be one in the morning. _It’s odd to think that today, when the sun comes up, I’ll be leaving._

Sirius feels a kind of guilt rise in his heart, and he curls up on his right side. _Maybe I shouldn’t have gotten angry with Regulus, it wasn’t fair to him to do that in front of our parents. Maybe I did deserve to be punished, all I seem to do is make things worse._ Sirius doesn’t stop his eyes from welling up, nor the lone tear from sliding over the bridge of his nose and soaking into his pillow. That’s when he hears his doorknob jiggle.

Sirius starts and sits up, grabbing his wand and aiming it at the door; even though he knows he’s not allowed to use magic, it makes him feel better to hold it. He waits a few seconds watching his doorknob, expecting the lock to click open and for his parents to march in, but the only thing that happens is a slight tapping on the door. _Regulus?_ Sirius slips silently out of bed and sneaks to the door. He holds his wand behind his back and puts his left hand on the lock, and remembers at the last second to wipe his eyes and blink them clear. Sirius slides the lock away quietly and slowly opens the door, afraid of waking anyone up. He peeks through the crack and finds his brother staring him right in the face.

“May I please come in?” Regulus whispers. His eyes flick to the spot on Sirius’ face where Walburga had struck him. There isn’t a mark there, Orion had healed it so there wouldn’t be a bruise for everyone to see at Hogwarts. Sirius looks down and pulls his bottom lip through his teeth, pondering his brother’s question. After a few seconds he nods and steps back for him to come in. He sits on the edge of his bed and watches Regulus close the door and stand next to it. He seems unsure of what to say, despite the fact that he is awake this late at night, probably having planned what to say to Sirius for hours.

“Is your…” Regulus trails off as he gestures to his face, his whisper sounding cautious, as if he isn’t allowed to care about how Sirius feels anymore. Sirius bites his lip again, and shifts uncomfortably before nodding at the floor in response to his brother’s unfinished question. All his fire that had burned inside him at dinner has died out, making him feel small and tired. _I don’t even care if Regulus is angry at me anymore, I can’t fix it anyways._ But he feels like he should say something to Regulus, something like ‘I’m sorry, it’s okay’ or anything that an older brother should say. _But I just don’t have the energy to fix anything right now. I don’t want to be angry, or brave, or anything that has something to do with tying me down more to my family. I don’t belong with anyone here, not even Regulus, so it’s useless trying…anything._

“Why are you here?” is all Sirius whispers back into the dark, resisting the urge to curl back up in bed. He searches Regulus’ face, looking for a sign that he can do just that. His younger brother looks him in the eye and frowns.

“You don’t have to apologize,” he breathes after a pause, so quiet Sirius barely makes out what he said. Then he turns and lets himself out, shutting the door behind him. Sirius stares at the closed door and repeats Regulus’ words in his head. _You don’t have to apologize. You don’t have to apologize._ Sirius can’t figure out what he means, then he remembers dinner when he had to apologize for how he acted towards Regulus. _Oh._

Sirius lies on his back as he pulls up his covers, staring at his stars above his bed. ‘ _You don’t have to apologize’. He’s not upset at for me getting angry with him. He understands. That means there’s hope._ He looks up at the star Regulus and smiles.

***

Sirius stops his trolley and gapes at the Hogwarts Express. It gleams in the light, and smoke dances through the air around it; it almost seems to glow with the magic it holds. It is the most beautiful thing Sirius has seen in his life to this moment. There are voices and people all around him, crowding in on him, but he feels freer than he has in years. A grin lights his face as he turns to look around him, drinking in all the people and chattering pets. Without even thinking, he pulls ahead of his family with his trunk towards the train as if it is a magnet, his very soul yearning to be sitting in the train and heading away. It isn’t just the thought of going _away_ that thrills him, it is also the thought of _going somewhere_.

“Sirius, slow down, let your family catch up with you,” Walburga calls from behind him, putting on a voice that makes her sound stern but almost motherly at the same time, a voice that she uses when they are in public. But despite the mask she has mastered over the years, Sirius can hear what’s really underneath, the annoyance and a warning to not force them to show their bad side. He forgets his excitement momentarily and pulls his trolley to a halt, looking over his shoulder to see his family a little ways behind, stuck behind a family hauling several trolleys and trunks.

Sirius looks around him as he waits, watching children and teenagers carry trunks and cages of pets towards the train. Then a sound to his right catches his attention: a sob. He whirls around in concern, his eyes landing on a mother leaning over to hug a small girl, who Sirius assumes is one of the first years like him. The mother cries as she strokes the girl’s hair, who is crying as well. Even though he knows it’s rude to stare, he can’t pull his eyes away from the sight of the two of them clutching onto each other.

“I love you mum, I’m going to miss you so much,” the girl cries into her mother’s shoulder, who holds her tighter in response.

“Sirius!” He doesn’t realize until now that he had been cocking his head slightly as he looked at the alien sight. He turns to see his parents and Regulus reach him through the mob of people. It’s strange seeing their cold expressions after looking at the mother and daughter, like going inside on a sunny day and waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dark.

“Stay close to us, next time,” Orion orders, making an effort to keep the steel out of his voice. Then he narrows his eyes at him and leans into him slightly, and Sirius knows a lecture is coming.

“We will not have you misbehaving, understand? School is a place where you make connections and allies, not where you make a fool of yourself. Always keep a good image, this is your future on the line.” _Your_ _reputation, you mean._ Then his father gives him a poisonous smile and pats him on the shoulder, waiting until Sirius nods. The urge to escape fills Sirius as he sees yet another layer peel away from Orion, revealing to him the darkness inside his father. _They don’t care about me, they only care about themselves and their image._

At this point Sirius begins to notice people looking at them, families whispering to each other at the sight of the Blacks. His parents pretend like they don’t notice, but Sirius can see that they relish the attention, because attention means power.

Then Walburga leans over and puts her mouth to Sirius’ ear, placing her hand on his opposite shoulder. Sirius tries with all his might to not flinch or pull away. _I don’t know who my mother is anymore. But I guess I did know all along, in a way._

“You know what is expected of you, don’t you?” She hisses, and Sirius nods hurriedly. “You will do well in your classes, behave, and make useful friends. You must show everyone what it means to be a Black and the power we have. In a few years you will be head boy of Slytherin, and you will make us proud.” She puts weight on the last statement and squeezes his shoulder as she says them, as if she can imprint her orders into his brain if she presses hard enough. _Okay, just let me go. Let me go._ Sirius barely dares to breath because she is so close. Walburga is about to pull away when she whispers one last thing.

“I own you.”

Walburga straightens and takes Orion’s arm, the two of them looking at each other as if they have made a victory. He feels a chill run down his spine from Walburga’s words, and with the knowledge that people are in awe of them, in awe of the power that has seeped into their souls and made them evil. Sirius feels something tightening his chest, something that can only be called hate.

Regulus steps up to him, standing straight and proud like his parents, but his eyes keep darting to the Hogwarts Express, wonder and longing in his expression. He awkwardly holds out his arms for a hug and Sirius embraces him stiffly. _Are you doing this for appearance? Do you actually want to hug me? Do you still love me?_ By the time these thoughts have raced through his head, Regulus is pulling away.

“Have a good year,” Regulus nods to him curtly.

“You as well,” Sirius returns. He opens his mouth to say something, anything, because he doesn’t have enough time. But a whistle blows, letting everyone know that the train is leaving. Sirius’ heart suddenly starts beating faster. _This is happening too fast!_ Goodbye is all he can say before he turns to pick up his trunk and drag it through the nearest door onto the train.

There is a wave of students rushing to get on at the same time as him, so he is pushed into the corridor with his trunk handle in both hands. Sirius isn’t quite sure how he feels about all these people pushing up against him, so he walks faster, ducking into a compartment with relief. He notices dimly that there is someone in here already, but he ignores them as he puts his trunk on the shelf above the seats. He drops into the seat on the right of the window and cranes his neck to look back down the station to where his family was standing. Sirius isn’t sure why he wants to see them one last time, or what to expect when he sees them, but all he sees is the backs of their cloaks as they step through the entrance to the platform. _They didn’t even wait until the train left._ Sirius turns back around, not sure how he feels about that sight as his stomach leaps with nerves.

Then Sirius sees the person sitting across from him for the first time, and suddenly none of that matters.

In front of him is a boy his age, and he is staring out at the platform with his head resting against the window frame. His hair is a light brown that falls around his face in very slight curls. A few freckles dot his pale face and cluster underneath his forest green eyes. Sirius’ eyes fall on an inch long scar that hooks over his jaw on the right side of his face. The scrawny boy is dressed in plain clothes, scuffed pants and a button-up long-sleeved shirt even though it’s warm out.

The train starts to move, jostling the boy upright from his headrest. Sirius looks away, suddenly fearing he has been looking at him too long. The other boy raises his hand in a small wave at someone outside the window that Sirius can’t see, then they have left the station and they are out in the daylight. Sirius looks out the window as the station disappears from view, leaving behind his old life.

Sirius’ mind whirls, spinning countless thoughts around in an attempt for all of them to be focused on at the same time. _This is it. I’m leaving. Did I forget anything at home? I should have gone to the bathroom another time before we left. I can’t_ believe _I’m not going to see my family until Christmas break._ He grips the seat in an attempt to ground himself, bring himself back to the present; a present that includes a boy sitting in front of him, and Sirius’ extremely rusty social skills.

 _Should I say hello to him? It would be the polite thing to do. But will it bother him?_ Sirius glances back at him, just in time to meet the boy’s eyes as he looks at Sirius. His gaze is slightly unnerving, like he is already deciding what he thinks about Sirius.

“Hello,” Sirius bursts out, breaking the silence they have carefully made. “My name is Sirius Black.” He lets out the tiniest of breaths, glad to have gotten that over with. The boy blinks at him for a moment with a look like panic in his eyes, as if he is caught off guard and doesn’t know what to say.

“Uh, hello,” he mutters back in a small voice, avoiding Sirius’ eyes as his gaze flicks from his face to the floor. Sirius can see how nervous he is by the way he tightly grips the book in his lap with both hands. “I’m Remus Lupin.”

Sirius smiles at him, pleased he managed to make him talk. The boy, Remus, also seems glad that the introductions are over and smiles back lopsidedly. Sirius suddenly feels a need to protect Remus, because he seems so much more nervous than himself, and Sirius knows how horrible it is to feel afraid.

“Are you a first year as well?” Sirius asks politely. _I refuse to act like a Black around anyone I meet, I want to start fresh so badly. He doesn’t seem to recognize my last name, so there’s hope._ Remus nods and absentmindedly pulls his sleeves further over his hands before gripping his book again. He still isn’t meeting Sirius’ eyes, looking all over the compartment around them. Then the door slides open, making them both look up at the two boys now standing in their compartment.

“Hey, mind if we sit here?” one boy asks as he already begins to put his trunk next to Remus’.

“No, go ahead,” Sirius replies, even though both of them have already closed the door and sat down. The boy sitting next to Remus has black hair that sticks up in the front, a crazy look that matches the wide grin stretching across his lit up face. His hazel eyes are wide, and Sirius can’t help smiling at him because he looks so happy and ridiculous.

“James Potter,” the wizard states as he thrusts his hand out into the center of the compartment. Remus fidgets and makes no attempt to shake his hand, so Sirius takes it and introduces himself. James’ eyes widen even further, if that is possible, when he hears his name.

“You’re a Black?” James asks as they release hands. “My mother is Dorea Black.”

“Really?” Sirius returns. “That must mean we’re cousins, from what I remember.” _Why have I never heard of James? I’ve heard Dorea Black mentioned, but I never knew who she married._ James grins even wider.

“That’s ace! I’ve never met one of my cousins before!” he bounces a little in his seat, then turns his attention to Remus.

“What’s your name?” James asks him. Remus looks at him with an anxious expression and his face goes red. He pulls at his sleeves again before saying his name. James nods at him and seems to forget about him a moment later.

“I’m Peter Pettigrew,” the boy sitting next to Sirius offers. His hair is mousy brown and trimmed almost to the scalp. His hand keeps drifting up to touch his head, so Sirius guesses he just got it cut recently. Peter has a pointed nose and small eyes, so he kind of reminds Sirius of a rodent, like a mouse or a vole. He has a bit of weight on him, which makes him look rather unbalanced because he is quite small. Sirius catches himself quickly. _Don’t judge him by his looks, that’s a very Black thing to do._

“It’s nice to meet you Peter,” Sirius returns, and feels better when Peter looks relieved that someone is talking to him. Nobody speaks after that, so Sirius thinks for a moment that maybe he said something wrong, but then he reminds himself that everyone is just as nervous as he is.

Sirius finds himself looking at Remus again, who is now reading his book. Underneath his pale, gripping fingers, Sirius can just read the title _The Standard Book of Spells ~ Grade 1_ on the cover. The boy has a slight frown on his face, making Sirius wonder if he is just concentrating, or in a bad mood. Even though he obviously doesn’t want to talk to anyone, Sirius’ head whirls with things he can ask him. _Why do I want to talk to_ this _boy, out of all of them?_ He stops thinking of things to say to consider this. _I guess he looks as nervous as I feel. But I guess I shouldn’t pressure him._

“So what house do you think you’ll be in?” James asks, shaking Sirius from his thoughts. James is leaning forward in interest, looking at all three of them. Peter squirms a bit in his seat, looking conflicted.

“I’ll probably end up in Hufflepuff, that’s where my parents were in,” he replies unenthusiastically. James seems almost disappointed by the house Peter mentioned, but is undiscouraged and turns his attention to Sirius expectantly. Sirius feels nerves rise in his chest. _He already knows what the Blacks are like, so he must also know that all of them have been in Slytherin. I don’t really want to remind him._

“I’ll be in Slytherin, like the rest of my family,” Sirius says as calmly as he can, not bothering to add in any words such as ‘probably’ or ‘maybe’, not wanting to get James’ hopes up. _He really doesn’t seem like he would be in Slytherin, he seems nice so I don’t want to disappoint him when I’m sorted into a different house._ But James grins at Sirius’ answer.

“Maybe you’ll be the first Black to not get into Slytherin,” he suggests. Sirius blinks in surprise at his comment. _I’ve never really thought about being in a different house before._ James then looks over at Remus, who is still concentrating on his book. He clears his throat in an attempt to get his attention, successfully causing Remus to raise his head.

“Pardon?” he mutters, looking anxiously around at them when he realizes they are all looking at him expectantly. James chokes on a laugh at Remus’ panicked expression, which immediately turns to hurt. Sirius finds himself angry with James for acting that way, when clearly Remus has some anxiety.

“James was just asking what house you think you’ll be in,” Sirius offers. Remus looks into his eyes cautiously, seeming to decide whether Sirius is teasing him now as well.

“Ravenclaw,” he mumbles simply after a few seconds, then hunching over his book again, his hair hanging down to cover his eyes. _This isn’t going too well, we’ve all said different houses so far._

“I’m going to be in Gryffindor,” James announces before anyone can ask him. He sounds so confident with his answer that Sirius feels a strange twinge in his chest at the idea that someone can be so confident of where they belong. Peter makes a small sigh, and Sirius suddenly thinks maybe he’s not the only one who feels this way.

A few minutes pass in complete silence, each boy seeming to hold his breath, unsure of what to do. Sirius shifts uneasily, looking at the others out of the corner of his eye. Remus is still reading, Peter is picking at his nails as if they’re the most interesting things in the world, and James…looks like he is ready to explode.

“Somebody please say something,” James suddenly bursts out like he’s been holding it in for too long. “I can’t stand this.” All of the other boys stare at him. _Well, now is the time to say something._

“Thank you _very much_ for interrupting my thoughts, I was just about to come up with a cure for cancer,” Sirius replies before he can even consider if the joke is funny. _I can’t even remember the last time I made a joke._ He holds his breath for one, fateful second, then James laughs. It’s loud, leaving James clutching his stomach. It’s a nice laugh, one of those cheerful kinds that welcome others to join in. Sirius grins in relief, and sure enough Peter chuckles as well, seeming to release some tension. Remus even looks up from his book.

“That’s more like it,” James says happily, sitting more forward in his seat. Sirius relaxes his shoulders, only now realizing they had crept upwards during the awkward silence.

“So,” Sirius starts, feeling the need to keep talking and not let this chance of making friends disappear. “What do you all know about Hogwarts?” James perks up, rubbing his hands together theatrically.

“Both of my parents went to Hogwarts,” he announces excitedly, “so they’ve told me _loads_ of stories.” Peter widens his eyes and leans towards James.

“Like what?” He presses excitedly. James then launches into an account of his father’s first flying lesson, where he had supposedly flown so fast all nearby windows had shattered. Sirius laughs as Peter gapes in amazement. The story is clearly exaggerated, but he enjoys it nonetheless as James twists it onwards, filling the compartment with warmth and ease.

The chatter flows easily, and as the sky gradually begins to darken outside, Sirius begins to feel a little something like gratitude towards these strange boys who have introduced him to a world where happiness can exist.

 

***

 

Crossing the lake is the most surreal thing Sirius has ever experienced. He wasn’t too sure about getting into the little boat since he had never been in one before. Now, as it magically slides its way across the black surface, Sirius’ veins are coursing with a mixture of fear and excitement. Above, Hogwarts looms with a welcoming glow that beckons him closer. Below, dark depths stretch out unknown below him. He tries to distract himself from his indescribable apprehension by looking around him. Many other boats flock around his, tipping here and there with their full loads of excited children. The light from the lanterns dance across the water, making Sirius feel for a moment as though he were floating through flakes of gold. _That’s nicer to think about than monsters possibly swimming below me._

“Do you think there’ll be enough food for us all at the feast?” James wonders behind him, as they approach a massive hole in the rock ahead of them.

“Why wouldn’t there be?” Peter replies. “They can magically make as much food as they need to.”

“Can they really?” James bounces in excitement. _Have they never heard of house elves?_ Sirius rolls his eyes until James’ bounces rock the boat, causing Sirius to hurriedly clutch the sides to steady it. However, he is distracted from his fear of plunging into the water by getting brushed in the face by ivy hanging from the entrance. Once they are through, Sirius looks up in wonder as they enter a large cavern, the voices of first years bouncing off the walls high above. The boats slide into place alongside docks, and the disorder begins as everyone disembarks.

Sirius realizes his heart is pounding as they climb the stairs carved into the rock. _In a few minutes I’ll be in Slytherin._ The thought encompasses his mind, driving away the sounds of James and Peter talking behind him. _I hope my cousins aren’t awful to me._ _Maybe they’ll be nice, we’re in school after all. They can’t be too unfair when we’re in public._ Still, the thought of spending his time with his cousins weighs on Sirius’ shoulders. _It would be so much nicer to be with these boys instead. The train ride was so fun, talking and laughing with them was so easy. I want everyday to be like that._

All too soon the first years are being lead into the Great Hall.

Sirius looks up in awe at the starry ceiling and struggles to slow his heartbeat. He gazes at the countless blackclad students in the room and feels blood pound through his head. He stops before a few stairs leading to a stool and wipes the sweat from his palms. He stares at a hat sing a song and fights down the dread weighing down in his stomach like a brick. He watches first years ascend the steps and thinks about walking out of the room.

“Black, Sirius.”

Everything stops. Sirius swears he can hear his name echoing in his ears. He slowly brushes past some first years and climbs up the steps to the stool. A woman who he dimly remembers to be named McGonagall holds out the hat, waiting to place it on his head. Sirius settles onto the stool and stares out at the sea of people before him. He starts as he notices his cousin Bellatrix staring up at him expectantly with a strange smile on her crooked face, like she’s looking forward to sinking her fingernails into his skin like claws.

‘A Black, eh?’ A voice says but somehow doesn’t. _Are you the sorting hat?_ Sirius thinks it out of curiosity to himself, but starts when he realizes the hat can hear his thoughts.

‘Yes,’ he replies. ‘And you are very curious indeed.’ Sirius clutches the edges of the stool tightly as the brick in his stomach grows a little heavier. _How so?_

‘I have sorted many Blacks before, but you, you don’t feel the same as them,’ the hat ponders. Sirius feels a bit of hope kindle inside him.

‘You don’t fit in with the rest, you resent your family and all they stand for. And you’re defiant towards them, that shows great courage,’ the hat clarifies. Sirius shivers in excitement and feels himself urge the hat on. _Is it possible I don’t have to be in Slytherin?_

‘Yes. It is certain.’ His heart skips a beat.

“Gryffindor!”

The Hall falls silent, and Sirius lets loose a surprised, joyous laugh.


End file.
